A Short Distance Correctly
by Little Muse and Majestrix
Summary: A summit meeting has finally been arranged with the Romulan Empire regarding the Narada incident, leaving Spock to deal with the concerns of a possible alliance, his counterpart onboard the Enterprise, and the emergence of new, or perhaps old, feelings.
1. Prologue

"This doughnut is stale."

There was no one to hear except the doughnut in question, but Lieutenant Frank DiRigorrio found he didn't much care. The Neutral Zone had remained just that the entirety of his tenure here and one learned to talk to whoever was willing to listen in deep space, and inanimate objects were often up to the task. More so than the handful of other people stationed with him anyway, only one of which was still even on shift with him at this hour.

DiRogorrio leaned back and his chair went with him, reclining comfortably with a gentle bounce as he chewed. He gazed at the plethora of monitors surrounding his station. The beeps and whirs had long since evolved from annoying to comforting, a reminder that everything was not timeless blackness out this far, but rather there were still schedules, other people going about their business, other people in general.

An abnormal beep sounded and DiRogorrio tapped at the keys he was supposed to when that happened, taking another bite. Half the equations on the screens he didn't understand - programming was Wilson's job - but he knew the computers in the way the patient knew his own body better than the doctor, every sound, had even learned to catch the occasional twitch in the matrices.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and sat back again, glancing at the time. Only two more hours on shift. He looked to his doughnut and wondered if it would be worth replicating something more palatable.

The monitor beeped almost indignantly again, despite the typed command, and DiRogorrio turned back to it, brow furrowing. He stared, momentarily forgetting to chew.

"... Hello," he said around his bite, watching the blip move further downscreen - closer.

He swiveled his chair around, toward the open hatch. "Hey, Wilson, get in here," he called, before returning to the computer.

Wilson took his damn time poking his head in the door, sipping at what smelled like coffee from there and looking as listless as DiRogorrio had felt two minutes ago. He made his way over and peered over the lieutenant's shoulder.

"What?"

"Short-range sensors are going off," DiRogorrio told him, pointing. "Look there."

Wilson stared and DiRogorrio watched him stare. Blips on the screen were nothing most of the time - for the long-range sensors. He saw Wilson's throat work and he set his cup down, reaching across the other to type the commands DiRogorrio had already tried.

Wilson turned his head and their eyes met.

No mistake.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, first things first, we just wanted to let you guys know, in the hopes of comforting you (or perhaps disconcerting you), that this is both a K/S and an S/U fic and that **both** pairings will have (or have had, considering we know our plotting, lol) a fair shot in this fic, because **each** of the two of us writing it belong to **different** sides of the fandom. It's been interesting (to be diplomatic) for us writing it; we hope it will be for you reading it. :)

**P.S.** We know this is quite purely set up, stay with us please.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been a long, boring day, and Jim wanted to relax. He wanted to be out of the command chair and to zone out while avoiding paperwork. He did not smile at this, because dodging his yeoman was not funny. He shuddered at the thought of her efficiency.

It didn't keep the smile from his face.

His feet found the least direct route to the rec room, and he took the time to nod and smile at people, resisting the urge to wink at the occasional cute ensign. The rec room doors loomed ahead and slid apart as soon as the sensor read him.

It was surprisingly low-key, and sparse. Kirk caught a glimpse of a few huddled groups playing cards and other games, quietly speaking to each other. Everyone seemed reluctant to disturb the quiet, even though most of them had gotten plenty of it on the bridge. Alpha shift had long since finished with beta shift already in place, gamma probably still asleep or scattered across the ship. He smiled at everyone he saw, but joined no one yet. He made it a point to be amiable and social with the crew, but aside from a select few, there were not many for whom the friendship was not colored by his position. It had been hard at first, to go from peer to superior, but Jim was almost used to it by now. There were over four hundred people on this ship, and he couldn't be best friends with them all, any more than a parent could be with their children. He kept the company he kept and allowed them the same for the most part, let them be the way his mother might have refrained from attempting to insinuate herself into a conversation between him and his own friends when he was young. And they knew they could come to him in the same way. Jim hoped even more so.

He told himself that his smile did not wilt when he caught a glimpse of Spock and Uhura.

The scene was downright cute. Spock had managed to snare the last of the oversized couch that lined one of the walls, and Uhura had apparently solved the problem by dragging over one of the overstuffed bean bag chairs (thank you, Sulu, for that suggestion during refit) and was sitting at his leg. They were both thoroughly engaged in reading their PADDs, and no one would think they were doing anything couple-y, except for the way she was leaning against his leg.

It was a different sort of pang than watching the crewmembers or the ensigns. Spock was one of the few equals he had on board. Watching him with Uhura was like watching the ex with the kids' new stepmother.

He walked over before he could talk himself out of it.

He had no plan, but then when did he ever, and it was okay, he thought, because this was about nothing more than the fact that they were the only other senior officers in the room.

Spock noticed him before Uhura did and he blamed the Vulcan's ears. It was his, "Captain," that caught her attention and lifted her eyes. She smiled at him and Jim assumed she was in a good mood, not because she had, but because she had done it first.

There was an expectant pause and Jim stood, unsure what to say and for some reason lacking confidence in his bullshitting skills. He could have done this, he decided, walked over here and actually said something intelligible, even without a plan, had he known why the hell he was coming over here in the first place. He was surely interrupting more here than he would be if he had just gone ahead and plopped himself down with Ramirez and Barrows for poker.

It _bothered_ him that he was interrupting when there appeared to be no activity to interrupt. It spoke of some other, intangible connection, and he didn't know what to do with that. What bothered him most was that it bothered him in the first place.

He stared at Uhura's smooth bare legs and told himself that was why.

"Did you wanna sit?" she said, and she looked half concerned by his uncustomary silence.

"There is no available space on which the captain may sit," Spock said as he looked up briefly from his reading.

"Actually, I came to ask Spock if he wouldn't mind working over a game of chess. There're some reports to go over and some updates in Engineering..." Kirk refused to fidget as Uhura blinked in obvious amusement, and Spock...

Spock pretty much just stared at him. Like normal.

"Don't you two get enough of each other on the bridge?" Uhura laughed and Kirk flinched inwardly. This was not going well, he thought. "It's okay, the time has passed faster than I realized anyway. I have a department meeting I'd like to sit in on. If you'll excuse me, Captain."

She nodded in his direction, and shot a lingering look at Spock before she left. Kirk watched her go and suddenly wanted her back.

When he turned again, Spock had risen from his seat. "So?" Jim prompted, though it probably wasn't necessary.

"I have finished perusing this particular article. I do not have a logical reason to decline."

Kirk rolled his eyes, but smiled. "'Sure', would've sufficed."

The near fondness conveyed by the height of Spock's responding eyebrow arch settled Jim's nerves on just how welcome his intrusion had or hadn't been. He tried not to let it go to his head.

Jim was glad that only one of the room's three chess sets were occupied. Spock owned one, glass and onyx pieces, that tended now to travel back and forth between his quarters and Jim's own depending on who had won the previous match, but Jim had not intended to invite Spock from Uhura's company into his quarters and he certainly hadn't intended for it to _look_ like he had. Private games were always pre-planned games.

They received nods from the ensigns currently duking out their own match and then seated themselves at the next available board. Spock glanced at Jim as they situated themselves, like he was waiting for something.

"Yeah, you're white this time." Jim waved a hand at him, wriggling in his seat. One of the chair's legs was shorter than the others.

By the time he had stopped fiddling with it, Spock had moved a pawn up a level and was still looking expectant. Jim obediently made his own move, but Spock's face did not change but to lift his eyebrow again. Jim squinted curiously at him and then mockingly raised his own in a mirror of his friend, a silent question.

"What?"

"There is no data PADD currently on your person," Spock said.

Jim blinked slowly. "No..."

Spock's eyes lowered to the game again and he reached for another piece but he was peeking at Kirk from beneath his lids. "May I assure you then, Captain, that there is no reason to presume that ship's business is the only sort which would prompt me to accept an invitation."

And oh, right, reports were supposed to be being reviewed here. Jim watched Spock watch the board, avoiding Jim's eyes not as though he were embarrassed, but like Jim might be.

He grinned, because what the hell, Spock wasn't looking anyway.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

* * *

Uhura brushed her hair, and through the mirror, watched Spock refold the shirts she had carefully (or so she thought) folded for him earlier in the evening. She merely smiled and continued her grooming ritual, humming to herself. Spock finished and continued to rearrange his second drawer. It was the closest thing to restless activity she had seen from him in a while.

"Something you want to talk about?" she asked, parting her hair and braiding it quickly.

"No." He moved to the bed, and adjusted the blankets, preparing them for sleep.

"Did you enjoy your chess game with the captain?"

"It was gratifying to see him adopt methods I have passively introduced to him. You were correct, he would improve if he believed it his own idea." Spock paused, and watched Uhura braid the rest of her hair before moving away from the mirror. He briefly experienced a memory of his mother at her vanity, brushing her hair while his father read reports in the master bedroom's sitting area, hiding the fact that he watched. He could look on it fondly now; the twinge was minimal.

He almost smiled.

"Good. The department meeting went well. We've been picking up some chatter about Earth Outpost 4."

"To be expected." Spock watched as Uhura walked up and laid her head on chest.

"It's been a long day."

He resisted the urge to respond that the "day" was never any longer than the accepted parameters that defined it, but he too had to admit the colloquialism was fairly apt today.

"I suggest we retire early, if you are so fatigued." Her fingers found his and her mind bloomed like reds and yellows in his own, and what she thought had nothing to do with sleep. "I believe I would be amenable to your intentions."

Uhura laughed, and allowed herself to be tugged to the bed.

* * *

"Isn't that-" Jim almost said _illegal_, because he was pretty sure that was the case, but Scotty's eyes were wide with faux innocence and it threw him off in a sympathetic way, "against regs?"

"Ah, well," And Jim knew this signaled the start of some impressively woven bullshit, "tha's just under Article 2, Section B, an' even then, i's only if ya don't have the proper casing. Lieutenant Michaels is handlin' that, an' the whole thing'd be wrapped up in three days flat, in any case."

Jim squinted one eye at the engineer. The lower decks were bustling with others going about their daily business and even more rushing to see to their individual assignments regarding this ambiguous project, but he refused to focus on them. He stared Scotty down as best he could, but the other merely maintained his original nonchalance.

"Warp capabilities?"

"Shoul' knock us outta the higher registers. Nothin' over warp four while we're at it, but tha's all."

It was said all in one breath, which meant the man was excited, which meant he thought Jim was about to cave, and Jim couldn't exactly claim he wasn't. More to see what would happen than anything, he asked, "What'd Spock say?"

"... Sorry?"

"What did Spock say?" he repeated slowly.

Scott cleared his throat. "Well, he said that he personally could not really see the need for such advantageous adjustments."

Jim tried not to smirk. "So, you were turned down and decided to come to me?"

Scott looked aghast. "That would be against protocol!" he said quickly. "I merely gathered more information to support my case, and brough' it to the highest officer currently on duty."

Jim did snort then, and scratched at his chin. "I just... don't want to set a bad precedence with this sort of thing."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Scott said quickly. "I just know you love the _Enterprise_ as much as m'self, an' we both want her in peak condition a' all times."

"Yes, we do," Jim said slowly. He was well aware the only reason the ship needed half the repairs of most in the fleet, despite seeing twice as much action, was Montgomery Scott and his undying love for the _Enterprise_ and its well-being. He also knew he was running low on a certain liquids he couldn't get anywhere else and which he had always let pass, despite his confidence that they could eat through the ship's hull.

"It's not as controversial as some of your... _other projects_, but if we can make room for them, I don't see why I can't authorize this adjustment."

Scott beamed, and nodded vigorously. "I's a relief t' hear you say that, Captain."

"Why, because you already started?"

At least the man had the decency to look chagrined. "Somethin' like that. Efficiency is key, I always say."

Jim opened his mouth but before he could manage a witty retort, there was a firm, two-fingered tap at his shoulder and he cringed, turning to find a put-upon looking Janice Rand standing behind him. She looked unconcerned that she was interrupting two superior officers, and who could blame her, because it was rare Kirk would chastise her and she had no doubt arrived and waited until a suitable end point in their conversation anyway.

"Yeoman," he said. It came out sounding firm and he decided he was impressed with himself. He wouldn't have been nervous of her if he didn't know she had good reason to be annoyed with him.

"Captain," she returned, and nodded at Scott for good measure. "Commander." He nodded back. "I hope I'm not interrupting, but there are some forms I need you to sign." She gave him a look that he was far too accustomed to seeing from Spock. "Several, in fact."

"Of course you do, Yeoman Rand, of course you do." He found perverse pleasure in smiling wildly at her, until she pursed her lips, looking like she would have rolled her eyes at anyone else. "Scott," he said, turning to his chief engineer. "You... just..."

Scotty fired off an overdone salute. "Aye, Captain."

Kirk turned and with Rand, left Engineering. "So, Yeoman, what do you have to torture me with now?"

"It wouldn't be torture, Captain, if you would finish your paperwork as it comes."

"But then I'd never have time to do anything else." Kirk nodded at a few whom they passed, staring at the data PADDs she carried and noting that there were three. He snorted and caught his yeoman staring at him. "What's on the agenda?"

"You'll have to sign off on the two disciplinary actions on Ensigns Carter and Lee, Communications has submitted two requisitions and the CMO has submitted the final schedule for shipwide physicals. Also, Earth Outpost 4-"

"Yes," Kirk said heavily. "I know." He stopped in front of the back entrance to his ready room, while Rand tapped in the security code, and then they both entered.

Kirk stopped in front of his desk and groaned. The PADDs mocked him.

"Hold on, hold on. I haven't sorted it into your preferred sorting." Rand patted his forearm and pushed him gently in the direction of his chair. Kirk didn't tell her, but he liked being manhandled by Rand; it reminded him of his mother when she was around.

"Serious Shit, Serious Bullshit, and What Rand Can Handle?" he asked hopefully. Rand laughed outright, and then looked surprised with herself, quickly removing a few of the PADDs before setting down one of those she carried.

"If you get started now, you can be finished in two hours."

"I'm not a robot. Not like you, Rand. You're so efficient and kind and hardworking and-"

Rand closed her eyes and tried not to laugh. "I'll take care of these," she said, referencing the two PADDs still in her arms. "If you can do more than half of what's on your desk, you can be quite proud of yourself."

"I'll hold you to that, Rand," Kirk said, waving her away as he picked up the closest. "Oh, this is yours," he said abruptly, handing it to her.

Rand frowned, but walked over to take it. "Oh!" She blushed and tucked the PADD away. "That's from-"

"So, that's Kent... No wonder." Kirk snorted. "As you were, Yeoman."

"Yes, sir." Rand wanted to sink through the floor as she left to her office. That was the last time she would carry her personal PADD around while on duty.

* * *

During their rather extended period of speaking solely through his mother, Spock had thought of nothing but the differences between himself and his father, if he thought of Sarek at all. In the near year since her death, he had come to understand that their problems stemmed far more frequently from their similarities. Because two such like individuals had little on which to speak, he was unsure - no, certain - that they had never learned how to carry on a conversation with one another that did not have an express purpose. Or perhaps his time spent around Humans had merely enlightened him as to the worth of conversing for enjoyment rather than solely for communication.

In any event, they tried. This was evident by the fact that Sarek had managed to inquire after the ship, his own well-being, Lieutenant Uhura, and even Earth Outpost 4 before reaching his point.

"_The Terran delegation here has informed me of the Federation's intent to include a Vulcan ambassador in the diplomatic party to be assigned to the Romulan summit meeting._"

Spock carefully schooled any surprise from his face. It was not terribly unexpected, really. "Is that wise?"

"_The Empire wishes to stress their lack of association with Nero. It is logical that the Federation convey no evident doubt of this for the time being._"

"You will agree to go then?"

"_I have not been asked._"

Of course. Members of the party were still being discussed. Spock was certain Command had yet to even hint at possibilities to Kirk. "You surely will be."

Even through the barrier of the comm unit's screen and the lack of expression, Spock could see his father's face change. "_I am not ambassador to Romulus._"

Spock blinked warily. "Vulcan society has no Romulan ambassador," he said. Ambassadorship implied an alliance. He was unsure one was the goal of these talks. Unsure if he wished it to be.

Sarek ignored his tone if he perceived it. "_Your counterpart has been somewhat mentioned-_"

Before his father could finish, there came the sound of the door swishing open, which only four people had access to, Spock himself included, and only one of which was expected.

"If you will excuse me, father, we will have to continue this discussion at a later time."

Predictably, Sarek merely inclined his head and did not ask questions, a trait of his people that Spock often missed on-board the _Enterprise_. "_Live long and prosper, Spock._"

"Peace and long life, father."

The transmission cut and Spock rose from his desk to find Nyota perched at the edge of his bed, already removing her boots.

"Your father?" she asked, reaching to undo the clasp at her neck.

"Indeed," he said. "He is gratified to hear you are well."

She glanced up long enough to grin at him. "I'm gratified he's gratified." She slipped her dress down and over her hips, moving to reach for a robe from her allotted portion of the closet. "What did he want?"

Spock would not deceive her for his own comfort. "He wished to share knowledge of the upcoming peace talks and to, as you say, 'check in'."

She gave a snort of a laugh and said only, "Good. I'm glad things are moving. You wouldn't know from where we sit."

He glanced back at the silent comm unit upon his desk as she readied herself for sleep. As was often the case after speaking with his father, he felt less settled after than he had before.

"Indeed," he said.


	3. Chapter 2

"But I would be too, considering."

Jim nodded but didn't look up from his PADD.

McCoy stared at him briefly before finishing off his salad. "You're quiet."

"No." Kirk still didn't look up, but he had been staring at the same four words for the past hour, his food hardly touched.

"I have a hypospray for that," he said cheekily.

Jim recoiled before rolling his eyes. "I'm fine, Bones."

"Normally you're talking my ear off, or at least listening when we're talking shop."

"We're talking about work?" Jim asked guiltily. He shoved his PADD away and straightened up. "I'm all ears."

"Talking about Lee? Remember, those two ensigns? You signed the disciplinary actions, right?"

Kirk nodded, because he vaguely remembered Rand getting on his nerves about it. "Yeah, what about it?"

"I was just saying, we found out Lee punched the shit out of Carter because the ass said he wouldn't mind plowing his soon-to-be ex-wife."

Kirk winced. "Why wasn't that on the report?" he demanded and he watched the doctor almost snap to attention. McCoy had once told him that hearing Jim use that tone of voice was like hearing Joanna read before he had taught her to; he didn't expect the capability out of either of them. "Why didn't I know about this?"

"I don't know, Jim, I didn't make the report, did I?" He bit off a piece of his bagel and chomped at it like he was making a point. "And probably because it wasn't pertinent, annoying though it is. The point isn't why they fought, not to you. It's that they broke into it while on duty, on your ship."

"I know how to do my job, Bones."

"I know," McCoy said, and nothing about his tone this time proved otherwise. It didn't even sound like a concession. "But this one's none of your business, Jim." Kirk could feel his eyes scan up and down him as he turned his attention back to his food. "So why don't you tell me what's really bothering you."

Jim didn't even flinch. "Nothing's bothering me."

"I'd almost believe that if you hadn't said it so convincingly."

Jim glared at him. This was his best friend and he knew him so well in some ways, but so little in others. He couldn't talk to him about Spock. Jim couldn't even sort out what it was he felt about Spock, or why he dwelt on him in the first place. Perhaps he needed to go about cutting ties with the elder; he always felt unsettled after speaking with him.

But all of that was for him to work out on his own. He was finding more and more things were these days.

"I'm fine," he said, scooting out from his chair. "And I'm late. I'll see ya."

He snatched his tray from the table and watched McCoy give him a look like he wanted to say something before he left, but Jim knew his friend was no good at apologizing and he wasn't going to make him. Jim's mood wasn't his fault, nor was how well he felt McCoy did or didn't understand him.

Jim turned back nearly the moment he had turned away. "And I wasn't-" He sighed, swallowing. "I didn't want to punish Carter," he said. "... I just thought Lee might want to talk."

It did nothing to help the expression on McCoy's face, but Jim felt better leaving.

* * *

"Nyota?"

Uhura turned, looking around the sparsely populated hall for who could have called her name. Ensign Feiss, Veronika. They had had a few classes together in their first and second year Engineering, and had kept in touch throughout. She had transferred on-board after the refit which had followed the loss of Vulcan, under Commander Scott.

"What can I do for you, Veronika?" she asked, slowing her gait to match her friend's.

The blonde sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, beneath her braid. "Is there somewhere we could talk?" she asked lowly.

"I doubt anyone would be able to overhear us, but if you'd like a bit of privacy, then we could go into my quarters." Uhura gestured to the door she had stopped before. "Is that fine?"

"Absolutely. Thank you so much. I did not know who to turn to." Veronika followed Uhura in, and was offered a seat as the other raised the lights and lowered the temperature.

"That's better. It should cool off in a moment. So what's wrong? You look like you want to cry," Uhura said as she took the seat next to her.

"I thought it would be easier than this," Veronika confessed. "Being on a starship. Missing my family. It is as though it hurts worse every day!"

Uhura blinked and tried not to smile. Her definition of dramatics had increased since dating Spock, but she was fairly certain this would qualify for anyone. "I remember you would talk about space like it was a lover," she said softly. "What happened?"

"As with all lovers, it captured me, and it lost its luster. It is cold and unforgiving and Commander Scott is a taskmaster who puts all of our Academy instructors to shame. Half of what he expects us to know is not in any textbook nor taught in any class!" Veronika halted, and blew the bangs off of her forehead. "I just cannot seem to get comfortable and no one cares."

"People care, Veronika. They just don't always show it. They're not just going to come right out and say it just because they're going through, or have gone through, the same thing. And then you're always in Engineering. Do you get out?"

"Spaceship," Veronika said again, deadpan.

Uhura laughed. "No, I mean, have you remembered your hobbies? You've got to find something outside of work to keep you occupied. Didn't you like to cook?"

"You remember that?"

"I remember the Königsberger Klopse you made that day. I swore I wouldn't eat it, but it _smelled_ so good." Uhura nudged her with her shoulder and smiled. "Did you know that there are at least two cooking clubs circulating around?"

"Really? No one had told me this!"

"Veronika, if you pull your head out of your ass, I'm sure you'll find more than one person going through the same thing. The cooking club meets on Thursdays, 2300 hours. You should come. I go every once in a while. It's nice to be around people who miss their homes, and then we get to eat the food they miss." She paused, considering. "You said no one cares. Do you try to make friends? Date anyone?"

Veronika actually laughed at this, not a scoff but true amusement. "Who is there to date?" she asked like Uhura was being ridiculous. "How do you approach someone... in _that way_... when you are meant to have a working relationship? It cannot be wise."

Uhura swallowed back a smile that might have become a laugh and opened her mouth.

"Oh, I do not mean-!" Veronika reached forward to place a hand on the lieutenant's knee, comfort she did not require for an offense she had not felt. "I only... you are so... you are _both_... you separate your lives so well, and I..."

Uhura felt strangely uneasy for a moment before she realized that she should be understanding "separate" as "compartmentalize".

"Well, it's easy _now_," she said. "Or easier. But that certainly wasn't at first. And I think the fact that he's so good at it helps me be better at it. And if you don't think it would be possible to start that kind of relationship that way, we all know the rec room can be a breeding ground for singles on certain nights."

Veronika blinked. "We do?"

Uhura couldn't keep the smile back this time. "Yes," she said. "Try Thursdays. It's like the weekend around here. And if you're worried about plain old friends," She settled her hand over the one Veronika had set on her knee, "I _am_ available."

"I will try to remember that before it gets to be so bad. I have run out of non-replicated chocolate and you know, sometimes it is the only thing that works during..." Veronika gestured feebly, with a smile.

Uhura nodded. She personally tended to keep her menstrual cycle under wraps around a predominantly male crew (aside from the time Spock had informed her he could smell it as if it were just another piece of the conversation and she had avoided him for a good week), but she certainly understood it. "I am very clear," she said with a smirk. "I think that Francis keeps some in her room. Just tell her its an emergency and we'll get her some more when we reach the next starbase."

Veronika laughed and caught a glimpse of the time on Uhura's PADD, next to them on the seating. "I must go. I have an experiment which will come to a close, and Commander Scott expressed interest in the outcome."

"Good! I won't keep you." Uhura walked Veronika out to the corridor and laughed as she was kissed on both cheeks and bid farewell. Doctor McCoy just so happened to round the corner at the end of their parting, and raised an eyebrow at her. "What?" she asked primly, before waving at a retreating Veronika.

"Was that German?"

Uhura paused and then grinned. "Would you be interested in learning? Ensign Feiss is a very interesting woman, and currently a little lonely."

McCoy shook his head. "I stay away from the lonely. I was bitten as a child."

She sighed. "Spoken like a true cynic. We'll find you someone eventually."

"No need. I have enough work." McCoy left to Uhura's laughter, a small smile of his own on his face.

* * *

"_The decision has been made._"

Spock found that he had been staring, and shifted his balance to regain concentration. "What was decided?"

"_As I have already served in the capacity, the Federation thought it wise to permit me to do so again._"

Spock processed that and considered all it meant, staring at a point that was carefully no where on his counterpart's face. He could see the logic behind having a direct liaison between the predominantly affected parties. He could see the logic in choosing his elder self for the role, for his past failure in this matter had been unavoidable, and he was certain the Vulcan High Council had interviewed him extensively on his previous experience, among others.

But more and more he anticipated that the Federation might be pushing toward not only assurance of continued peace, but an alliance. And that seemed... dangerous. He desired no war. He desired to help when it was needed. But the Romulans could easily take advantage of the situation and Spock certainly did not wish for the Federation to present their back to them.

"Will the liaison linger after the peace talks have concluded?"

The ambassador blinked at him and Spock put aside more easily than he once had his unease with how plainly his reaction showed on his face. He could surmise that Jim had been a bad influence and sympathetically label it mere cause and effect. "_That is not decided,_" his counterpart said. "_I am not certain it is at this point even considered._"

"And if it were?"

"_Are you suggesting I speculate as to the outcome or inquiring into my personal preferences on the matter?_"

Because he knew himself well enough to know he already suspected the answer, he only lifted an eyebrow.

"_Spock,_" And it was still extremely odd to hear his name from his own mouth, a sentiment he could see his counterpart shared, "_I devoted the latter half of my life to a goal which Vulcans now have the opportunity to achieve many years earlier. I must consider the lives that would be spared._" He paused. "_But I must also consider whether or not each of our people are ready for such a move. They were not when I began, many years from even now. As with all of your queries in regards to my expanded knowledge, I must conclude that I simply do not know._"

A profoundly unsatisfying answer, but the only one he certainly could have given. Spock stared directly at himself this time, as he thought on this. "Why did you devote yourself to such an unlikely cause?" he found himself asking, and then immediately after wondering if it was the sort of question his counterpart could even permit himself to answer without fear of swaying his own choices.

Sure enough, the other's face changed again, and Spock had a difficult time placing the emotion. It did not seem a pleasant one, quiet but near fierce. "_I desired an occupation,_" he eventually replied, as though that could explain all of what had passed on his face. "_It was a worthy one._"

Spock blinked past it. "I cannot help but wonder if this would be better suited for when we as a people have recovered."

"_And when will we ever truly recover, Spock? Our grief and loss will reverberate through our universe for hundreds of years. The loss of a home world is nothing less than horrific. You will not live to see it referred to with anything short of the shock and sadness we feel right now._"

"I understand the tactical advantages," Spock said, and he could feel a deep seated irritation. He did not appreciate being made to feel as if he were incapable of seeing the "big picture". Even more disturbing was that it was _his_ face, albeit older, forcing him to feel this way.

"_I know you do._"

"Are there any other particulars that you wish to share with me?" Spock knew that his counterpart would hear it for what it was, a conclusion to the call.

"_None that I can share with you at this time. We will speak again._"

Spock nodded, and ended the call. Once his face left the screen, he still could not quiet the sensation of discomfort and doubt. He had none in his skills as a negotiator, and with years of experience gained, there would be no logical reason to expect failure on his part.

He looked around his room, and briefly thought of joining Nyota in her own. He settled for meditation instead.

* * *

Lieutenant Uhura often felt that the daily grind of her work shifts were not quite what she had signed on for when she had selected her focus at the Academy, or for that matter, enlisted in Starfleet. She enjoyed her job, even the tedious portions, liked feeling useful, because there was indeed constantly something to do at her station, usually necessary to the flow of ship's operations, however small. There were other people here who she knew would not have the patience to carry out her function, let alone take pleasure in it.

But she had to admit, on days like this, when all there was to do was ferry messages from one department to another and other occupations of no more excitement, she longed for the sort of away mission that resulted in a projectile weapon pointed at Kirk's head with nothing standing between her captain and certain death but her language skills.

Or something like that.

The captain had been in and out of the bridge this shift anyway, arranging the departure of Ambassador Fox, and she would assume certainly seeing him off by now. As a result, alpha shift had been even more terminally boring than usual without the occasional joke popped throughout. Chekov and Sulu appeared to be keeping each other company in that regard, but they weren't forthcoming in sharing with the rest of them, the way Jim had the freedom to. In any case, she supposed even Jim's jokes had been diminishing as the first year of the mission wore on and he, she suspected, actually grew up, which she both commended and blamed Spock for.

She kind of missed it.

There was a beep from her console that she went to accept just as there was a beep from the turbolift just before it deposited Kirk back onto the bridge and all eyes briefly turned to him, including hers. She listened to the message's tags and then forwarded it, watching in her peripheral vision as the captain made his way to the center seat, and then more closely, as she always did, when Spock rose from his station and approached him.

"The ambassador is planetside?" she heard him prompt, saw him place both hands on the back of the chair.

"Yeah," Kirk said, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "I miss anything fascinating?"

Spock hesitated like he was considering this. "A subjective term, Captain, but in my estimation, negative."

Jim snorted as she did. She flicked a knob to accept the next incoming transmission.

The audio tags caught her ear, and she shunted all consciousness to the message. It wasn't long, and most of it wasn't for her ears alone, but she couldn't help but be interested as the message went on. Uhura checked twice to make sure the message had come through in its totality, and once she was sure, readied it to be routed.

"Captain, I have a message from Starfleet Command."

"Put it on."

"For your ears only, sir." She turned and raised an eyebrow. Both of Kirk's rose as well as he stole a glance at Spock.

"I'll take it in my ready room. Spock, join me?" Kirk didn't wait for an answer as he left his chair and walked to the bridge entrance of his office. He heard the quiet beep of a waiting message.

"Captain, I do believe the lieutenant said that it was for your ears only," Spock said, once the door had closed behind him.

Kirk shrugged, and sat down at his desk. "True, but I'd tell you anyway. This way we can kill two birds with one stone." He looked to Spock cheekily as he pressed the button. For some reason he had come to enjoy using idioms in his first officer's presence. He knew that Spock knew what they meant, despite feigning confusion or ignorance.

He had his number.

"This is Kirk, passcode alpha one."

"_Voice recognition approved._"

Admiral Pike's tired face came into view, but he smiled stiffly. _"Jim, I'm sure you know we've been trying to craft the best contingent possible to make sure these talks with the Romulans go the way we need them to. We've finally settled on a delegate team, and now Command has decided that no less than our flagship would do to ensure the safety of the delegation and its mission. Your orders are to report to the Jupiter Station, where the delegation will board and any and all particulars will be communicated to you. If you have any concerns or questions, get back with me as soon as possible. Pike out."_

Kirk sat back and stared at the now empty screen. "I gotta say, I didn't expect them to make a decision so... quickly." He glanced over to Spock. "What do you think?"

"What I think is irrelevant," Spock said automatically.

Kirk cocked his head and almost sighed. "Not if I asked your opinion."

Spock hesitated. "Could you be more specific?"

"Yeah, sure. Why do you think they've come to such a quick decision after Vulcan?" Jim visibly hesitated. "Seems like you guys aren't even really on your feet yet."

"When war is potentially imminent, Captain, I am uncertain we have the luxury of considering the decision 'quick'. I was told that it would not matter how long they waited. The wound of losing Vulcan would still be as deeply felt."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Whoever told you that was a smart person," he murmured, staring off into space.

Spock did not know if he could accept the compliment in all honesty, however unique the situation.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** *peeks* You guys there?


	4. Chapter 3

The meeting with the senior staff went smoothly enough, which was rather impressive considering the evident fatigue of the crew and the weight of their next assignment. Kirk was eloquent, Doctor McCoy only complained once about the shipwide vaccines necessary to cross into the Romulan Neutral Zone, and Lieutenant Sulu and Commander Scott kept any inappropriate humor to a minimum.

Nyota was quiet and respectful as always, listening rather than waiting to speak.

To Spock's own chagrin, he occasionally allowed himself to be distracted by the captain. Kirk. Jim. The captain who had let slip back in his ready room that he supposed this new mission to mean that they would be expecting Spock's own counterpart as a guest onboard. He had said it as though he had expected from the beginning that Spock would merely agree with him, and it had taken Spock a few moments to master his surprise. It was not that it disconcerted him that the captain maintained contact with his counterpart. It was simply that he had not known. It was somewhat of a presumptuous invasion of privacy, should he have been disinclined to trust either party involved, to be an afterthought in matters which regarded himself.

However, he was _not_ disinclined to trust either party, and so it would be quite simple to put aside, he was certain. Discomfort with the general idea of his counterpart had been easily surmountable in the past.

Pleased with this choice, he turned back to listening to Jim's words and observing Nyota, whose brown eyes were already on him. She offered him a little smile to which he raised a teasing eyebrow.

"And you should all have a list of the delegates."

"Spock. You're a delegate?" McCoy interrupted, looking down at his list.

Nyota glanced down, but didn't say anything.

"No, as you are aware, Doctor," Spock responded coolly, "my counterpart will fulfill the role he has in the future."

"Ain't _that_ a couple o' types of mind trip," Scotty offered quietly and then looked up like he was embarrassed he had been audible.

Kirk looked slightly irritated, much to Nyota's interest. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

No response.

"All right, I'll need all paperwork on my desk tomorrow at start of shift. Dismissed."

Nyota waited for Spock to gather his things before following him into the hall.

"So, you don't seem too surprised," she offered.

Spock looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "What should surprise me?"

"The older you coming on board."

"It does not surprise me because I already knew."

Nyota nodded as they both entered the turbolift. There were two other people on already, so they ceased conversation until it let them out on Spock's floor. She would not take up much more of his time; today was a standing chess game that she had no desire to get in the middle of, nor stick around for.

"Are you all right with this?" she asked, once behind closed doors.

"With you here for now? I do not have reason to find it undesirable." Spock's eyebrow rose again as Nyota reached out and brushed his hand.

"Behave; you know what I'm asking. Are you not uncomfortable with having your older self onboard?"

"I do not think I will cause a problem." He chose the pronoun with a little amusement. She smiled and shook her head.

"If it doesn't bother you, then I'll try not to let it bother me."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Nyota nodded slowly. "It's a little like déjà-vu in reverse; there's a person who knows our future, not in the abstract, but who actually lived it. There are so many questions I wouldn't dare ask, and then there are some that are almost bursting to come out. And I haven't even met him yet. So yes, it makes me a little uncomfortable; Humans are a bit macabre when it comes to their futures, whether they should know or not." She smirked at him.

"It would be illogical for me to fear... myself based merely on when I came from." Spock knew that sentence was hardly correct, but conveyed the emotion and meaning as best as possible. "In any event, the captain knew of his arrival before even I did."

She blinked. "They speak? Still?"

"It would appear so."

"Does _that_ bother you?"

Spock pondered for a moment. "I do not believe so," he said carefully. "I cannot restrict those who would have contact with my counterpart."

Nyota shook her head. "Agreed, but it's still weird. I'll see you later." She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, before letting herself out.

Spock mulled over Nyota's words before he moved to set up the chess board. Perhaps somewhere within he could acknowledge that it was, indeed, a little _weird_.

* * *

Vulcans were a reserved people. They considered carefully before they spoke and as a rule, made it a point to listen more often than not. As such, Spock had spent a good deal of his life watching others think.

James Kirk did not think like others.

He took the same time planning his chess moves that Spock did, set his chin into his hand in a manner common amongst ruminating Humans. But to watch the thoughts flit across his blue eyes was an experience. Countless scenarios considered and nearly immediately dismissed before the correct one was settled upon, leaps of logic Spock could not hope or desire to make, and so the move, once made, had never seemed logical to Spock until recently. It had taken him nearly a month to realize that Jim was taking into account not simply logical directions countermoves would take, but working out all of Spock's possible strategies all the way to checkmate in each.

All of this was based upon an understanding not simply of how an opponent would move, but of how _Spock_ would move, and how he would respond to each of Jim's responses to those moves. And there had been discernible - albeit rarely followable - order behind it as early as their second game.

Impressively infuriating though it could be, their weekly chess match, if nothing else, reminded Spock of why exactly he had chosen to follow this man when Jim occasionally (or often) made it difficult to remember.

"Check," Jim said without raising his eyes from the board and Spock carefully utilized his own turn to move out of it. "We should try something else next time; we're both getting too good at this."

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him. "If by 'this' you are in fact referring to chess, Captain, I must point out that we have both been proficient at the game for a substantial period of time already."

"I meant against each other."

Jim was studying the board again and Spock used the time to word his response carefully. The suggestion was inspiring an oddly unpleasant sensation in him. "You no longer find our time together stimulating?" he asked.

Jim's eyes flicked up. They looked surprised. "Kind of a fallacy to jump right to that. Shouldn't you know better?" The tone was teasing and Spock had to stop himself from squirming. Jim's gaze returned downward. "Not what I meant at all. I never don't enjoy the chess. I just think we might enjoy other things too. You should come to poker night, sometime. You would kill at it. And the crew would love to see you there anyway; it'd make you seem more approachable."

Spock considered this, not for the truth of the statement, which he knew to be accurate, but for the meaning behind it, something he had learned to do in recent years. "Captain," he said. "I am aware that Humans often seek to introduce serious intentions in a deceptively light manner. Are you attempting to suggest that it would be beneficial to ship morale if I were, as you say, 'more approachable'?"

Jim laughed outright at that. Spock could acknowledge all laughter as a pleasing sound now, but it still never failed to startle him. "I'm not giving you an order, Spock," he said. "If I wanted to, I would; you're the last person I'd need to coddle. I just thought it'd be _fun_. You know, fun? Merrymaking and frolicking or... something."

"Frolicking, Captain?"

Jim rolled his eyes, a Human gesture of exasperation. "You know what I mean. Like chess. _Pleasant_. You'd like it, poker takes strategy too." Another disarming grin. "My kind."

Spock hesitated. "I suppose it would indeed be an opportunity to better learn your thought processes."

"That's it," Jim said. "Think of it like an experiment. Lots of illogical Human customs to study."

"In reference to illogical Humans, Captain-"

"-Jim."

"-Jim, I understand you authorized Commander Scott's-"

"-Ah, damn, I forgot about that-"

"-modifications to the warp drive, which I had already-"

"-I'll have to see how deep into it he is. I don't want us limping to the pick-up now at warp one-"

"-dismissed as expendable and perhaps dangerous-

"-Yeah, I know, sorry about-"

"-and while final decisions are, of course, in your hands, I would think it prudent if we did not encourage such duplicitous behavior, nor show apparent discord in view of the crew."

Jim stared at him, silent now, but like he was about to speak, and Spock knew on a level he did not customarily acknowledge that the captain was withholding himself from mentioning the 'discord' of the _Narada_ incident and its culmination.

He only sighed in the end. "You're right. Sorry."

"Apology implies offense, Captain. I merely wish to optimize future behavior."

The smile was back, subtler this time. "Of course," Jim said. "I'll talk to Scotty. Knowing him, he already was thinking about pushing this back if he could after the meeting. He knows we're on another schedule now, going to meet the delegates."

"Indeed."

Jim gazed at the chess board again and it was here that Spock realized neither of them had made a move in some minutes. Jim stared at it carefully, and though it was his turn, Spock was unsure that he was contemplating strategy.

"Spock, does it..." He cleared his throat, "I don't know, _bother_ you... that other you and I still talk? I mean, I hadn't really thought about it before all this, 'cause it's not so common, and I don't know, but... does it?"

Like the majority of Jim's moves, it was not one Spock had anticipated. "Nyota asked me something similar earlier this evening, regarding my sentiments on the whole toward my counterpart," he said. "I confess, I did not know quite how to answer her question, as I did not understand the impetus behind it."

"Well, she cares about you. Makes sense she'd ask."

"Indeed. I only meant I did not comprehend why it _should_ 'bother me'."

Jim shrugged a shoulder. "I don't know." A touch of self-deprecating humor. "A Human thing, I guess. But I wouldn't want to continue if it did. Bother you."

Spock cocked his head and answered as honestly as he could. "I do not know of anything you would discuss with him which should."

Jim's expression turned odd where it was usually quite readable and Spock did not know how to respond to it or what part of his own reaction could have inspired it.

"Right," he finally said. "Good." And made his next move.

* * *

It was like clockwork these nights, and never failed.

"Oh, my God," Nyota moaned, and breathed out deeply.

She and Spock were tangled up in her sheets, surprisingly. He had arrived at her door with dark eyes and wandering hands, and there had been minimal conversation before clothes were off and they were on the bed. Most people saw Spock as stoic at all the times, and wondered how someone like her - a Human being completely in touch with the emotional spectrum - could get anything out of a relationship with him.

"Oh, please, right there," she said, and was rewarded with the momentary loss of her sight.

This was _her_ Spock, the Spock she had all to herself that most people would consider a myth. He was between her legs, hot and hard as she lifted her hair from her shoulder, riding him almost desperately. He touched her face and his mind slid into hers, as it had many times before, crimson and swirls of gold and purple with flashes of green. She angled her hips and everything felt _silver_ and shining, and he came with her name on his lips, quiet as a whisper.

Spock laid her gently on the bed next to him and turned his immense heat on her naked form. She smiled and snuggled closer, her fingers trailed designs on his pectoral muscle idly.

"Not that I'm complaining," she said with a satisfied grin, "but I hadn't expected you tonight."

Spock merely blinked and waited for his heart rate to return to normal. "I had no other plans that kept me from your company, and I desired it. Did I interrupt something?"

Nyota smiled and shook her head. "Absolutely nothing that could not wait. Will you sleep here?"

Already he could hear her breathing evening out and he did not think it logical for them to dress to merely disrobe again to sleep upon arrival in his own quarters. "I will remain here," he decided. She smiled and leaned forward to give him another kiss before she turned and fit her back against his chest, as was their normal position for sleep. Within a few moments Nyota was deeply asleep, evident by the light way she snored, although she claimed she never did. (How she would know for sure, or why she would not believe him, Spock was not certain.)

Not long after, he too realized he required slumber, and allowed himself to relax, but sleep did not come for some time.


	5. Chapter 4

Bed was a good thing, Jim had decided long ago. It was soft and warm and always pleased to see you and, like any relationship in Jim's life which had come close to working, he saw far too little of it for his liking. He flopped down face first with a groan of pure contentment that even the stiff, standard issue mattress could not suppress and wriggled down into the pillows. _Like a pig rolling in mud_, Frank had once told him, and he hadn't cared then either. No one was here to see him being indulgent anyway.

Except for the hands gliding firmly up his back to his shoulders. They reached them, squeezed once like a greeting, and then smoothed back down again. Jim hummed approval and flopped his face to the other side, toward the bulkhead.

"S'nice," he mumbled, and received no response but more strokes that he suspected would have continued anyway.

They continued for several minutes, up and down and back again, warm, familiar hands that Jim had no problem relaxing under, despite the fact that he could remember no one he would share this intimacy with who was familiar. He was completely boneless when the hands paused and he felt a soft kiss pressed to the back of his neck. Hot breath skittered over his spine and Jim shuddered as the mouth traveled to first one shoulder and then the next, each touch slow and near reverent.

Jim squirmed when arousal began to pool in his groin and one of the hands tightened at his bicep, preventing him from turning over before he had even consciously had the thought to. He settled down again, did not question the strength of the hold.

The kisses traveled down farther until they made Jim's back bow, and he shifted and slipped in the hold that was on him until he could turn to see the person in his bed. He looked up the long, lean arms, broad shoulders and...

And there was no face.

No fucking _face_.

He yelled, and moved away from the _thing_ in his bed, and when he stumbled out of it, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

To find he had no face either.

He screamed, without a mouth.

* * *

"Mister Scott," Jim called as he approached the engineer, watching the way the other's face changed from focused to giddy when he spotted the captain moving toward him. "I need a word."

"Aye, Captain," he greeted him. "Wonderful timing; you can check in on the repairs. They've yielded some very advantageous results."

"Yeah, about that..." Jim rubbed at the back of his neck, and took in the scene around him. He wondered if everyone was always this busy, considering he had heard from more than one person that Scotty could be somewhat of a slave-driver when it came to the engines, or if it only ratcheted up a notch when the captain was on deck. He paused. "Wait, did you say 'results'?"

Scott paused himself like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Aye, sir."

"I came down here to tell you we'd have to postpone the modifications because we would need full warp to pick up the Romulan delegates," Jim told him. He crossed his arms over his chest, watched as Keenser shuffled past without so much as a salute. "Are you telling me you're already finished?"

"Well... _finished_," Scotty huffed a strange laugh, "i's such a relative term down here, when we're always updatin' an' seein' to the repairs, an'-"

"Scotty."

"-but with th' modifications we discussed... aye, I suppose you could say we're finished."

Jim stared him down, trying to look unimpressed, because he was. "Scotty," he said carefully, "the modifications we talked about don't happen overnight. Did you start before you even asked Spock?"

"Well, I... _start_... i's-"

"-A relative term, yeah, yeah, I get it." Jim pressed thumb and forefinger into his eyes, sighing. "Scotty, look. You know I allow you a lot of latitude. Mostly 'cause I knew what I was getting into after that story about Admiral Archer's dog, so I have no one to blame but myself."

"Aye, sir," Scott agreed, and it better have been a response to the first statement.

"And I know you certainly understand the engines and what they can handle better than anyone, probably Spock and certainly myself included."

"Aye, sir."

"But you do that again, and I will make sure you enjoy a nice shore leave on a planet _very_ far from San Francisco when it comes time for the next refit. We clear?"

Scott's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. "Aye, sir."

Jim nodded once, as satisfied as he could be. "Okay, then." He turned, planning to head back up, and then rethought the move, turning back. "And don't do the thing with asking the other when one of us says no again," he said, with a touch of humor this time. "While I may not mind if you do whatever it is you happen to want to do, and while it may work out fine on your end, it puts _me_ in the doghouse, not you."

Scotty grinned at him. "Aye, sir."

Jim went to leave again.

"Captain?"

He stopped again and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Mister Spock," Scotty began, still looking not quite sure of himself, "he all right with th' other him comin' to stay?"

So it wasn't just him, Jim thought. Or just him and Uhura. It really was going to be weird to have them both around, that they both existed in the first place. Jim scratched at his neck again. "Seems like it," he said. "He takes him almost as well as you did, I'd say."

Scotty grinned again. "Good," he said. "'Cause I like him. The ambassador, I mean."

Jim gave a rueful smile of his own and nodded. "Yeah, me too."

He moved to go and was successful this time, though he wouldn't have been if he had chosen to respond to the muttered,

"Now _he_ woulda let me from the start."

* * *

Spock adjusted his collar and gazed uneasily at his reflection. There was a mirror in his room solely for Nyota's purposes, as he had seen no cause for one outside the head adjacent to his quarters, and he had found himself second-guessing his appearance more since its arrival. It was no question of attractiveness, as it was with both Nyota and most Humans at least in part, but merely that there were always things to notice now he had an unavoidable and proper method by which to notice them.

Because it was _there_, as Jim would say.

His uniform could not be adjusted anymore, and suddenly there was no logical reason to remain in his quarters. Spock still did not move toward the door.

It was not that he did not _want_ to see his counterpart. He just did not know if he was ready. Ready for what was unclear, but the thought kept him from leaving, as if he were still a child and his father had asked for him after a particularly undisciplined day at school.

Ready to speak with him? Surely not; they already spoke not infrequently. Did it in fact "bother him" that his counterpart would be on board, speaking with his colleagues? Apparently, he already spoke with the captain. And he and Nyota would surely get along well.

There was no hoping the visit would remain entirely professional, knowing his elder self, and in his estimation it perhaps should be. That was all.

The odd comfort in logically following his emotions to their root soothed him in the way that reminded him that he could rationalize his fear, and have it evaporate. It allowed him to turn away from the mirror, finally satisfied, to leave his quarters.

* * *

Kirk tried not to go for his collar for the third time in a row in the span of four minutes, but did someone miscalculate his measurements or what?

"Stop fidgeting," Bones said next to him, looking impeccable in his dress attire. He stood up ramrod straight and stared straight ahead, looking like a captain instead of the CMO, despite the fact that Jim knew the doctor hated his uniform more than he did.

"Stop making me look bad," Kirk whispered out of the corner of his mouth. This beam-up would be the second party that would make up the Federation delegation to Romulus.

"When was the last time you ate anything?"

"I haven't. Too busy going over paperwork to do anything but." Kirk sighed as he felt his stomach protest and paused at the press of something into the palm of his hand. He looked down to find Uhura smiling at him and a small piece of what looked like butterscotch candy in his hand.

Please let it be butterscotch candy.

He quickly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth as the transporter began to light up, relief flooding his system. "S'anks," he lisped, and glanced around. The doors to the transporter room opened to reveal Spock, and another type of relief made him smile and stand up straight.

The Tellerite party appeared, looking slightly disgruntled for some reason, and Kirk could not help but groan inwardly. He did not like meeting Tellerites especially when -

"Captain, your ship was four point three seconds late beaming us up. That is unacceptable. Your ship is too cold and we were made to wait so the Andorian party could beam aboard first." Ambassador Gull rattled off the words as if they were artillery. He moved to stand in front of Kirk and Jim noticed he only came up to his own chin. He tried not to think of him as a child.

It was really hard.

"Ambassador, it was in fact your aide that delayed the beam up. If the time was not to your liking, then the fault lies with your own staff," he said calmly.

"We expect equal treatment among all the delegation while aboard your vessel." He looked up at Kirk like he had not spoken and Jim shot a quick glance to Spock at his side, who seemed to share his distaste, but merely twitched an eyebrow at him in sympathy. Jim shrugged a shoulder and turned back.

"Naturally, Ambassador. We would have it no other way." He felt McCoy's eyeroll without looking. "Yeoman Barrows will escort you to your quarters; I assure you they're our finest. If there's anything you need, she'll take care of it, and we will see you at tonight's dinner."

Gull gave him a single nod and obediently followed behind Barrows out into the hall, his party of three trailing after him.

"Let's hope there's nothing they find off about their quarters," McCoy said. "Or they'll be asking for yours, Jim."

Jim snorted at him, but Spock beat him to his retort.

"While diplomacy is of course preferable, Doctor, it is the collective duty of all here, including the delegation, to please the Romulans - not each other. If Ambassador Gull finds his lodgings unsatisfactory, he may speak with me and I will explain that there is no superior alternative on board."

Jim's own eyebrows traveled up and he looked over at Spock again, still standing at his side and staring at the transporter pad expectantly, perfectly pristine. "Spock," he said, and Spock turned his head to him, "that's kind of badass."

Spock cocked his head slightly as McCoy snickered. "I do not believe I understand, Captain."

Jim shook his head. "Nevermind," he grinned. "Scotty, energize."

The Terran delegation was next, five members this time, four men and one woman. It was Admiral Komack who stepped from the pad first, who Kirk had not heard much from since Spock's academic trial against him. He had not been among the handful of admirals to seek him out for a handshake after he had been promoted, but he offered him one now, and Jim accepted it.

"Admiral," he said.

"Captain."

"Ranking officer aboard now," Jim said with a smile, releasing his hand. "You wanna cover my shift for me?"

It was meant to be a joke, but Komack's expression didn't change, the way Spock looked when he was playing stupid or when Jim's lack of logic simply did not even bear comment. He cleared his throat and turned to the next as Komack went on to present Spock with the _ta'al_ and give McCoy and Uhura handshakes as well.

"Ambassador April," Jim greeted the graying man, a real smile on his face now. He had been pleased to see the former captain's name amid the lists they had received and was even more pleased to see and meet the man. "Welcome aboard."

"Good to be back." April had a firm grip and warm eyes that traveled all over the transporter room. "I understand Chris handpicked you." His hand had not released Kirk's.

"Oh, well, not- I mean-"

"I'll be watching to make sure you've earned his regard." The twinkle in his eyes belied the seriousness of his words, but Jim still nodded.

"Uh, Yeoman Rand will take you to your quarters and handle anything you need." He gestured toward Janice, waiting to the side. "I'm sure you'll be able to find your way around."

Ambassador April cast another look around the room. "We'll see," he joked.

The others, two aides and the ambassador's wife, only nodded politely before leaving and Jim sighed as they did, slumping.

"It's gonna be a long night," he said.

"Long week," McCoy amended.

Jim ignored him. "Scotty," he called again and after a few moments, the pad was alight once more. They all watched it carefully and Jim risked a glance at Spock. Unsurprisingly enough, his posture and expression had not changed.

By the time he faced forward again, the same face was before him.

Jim couldn't help the somewhat goofy grin that took over his face. "Ambassador."

Spock the elder stepped down from the pad, flanked on each side by a younger Vulcan male. "Captain," he said with evident fondness.

The grin widened impossibly and all Kirk could think to say was the same he had to the other former crew member of his ship.

"Welcome aboard."


	6. Chapter 5

Uhura did not know what to do with her hands. Should she hug him?

No. Definitely not. That was more than four types of weird.

Should she do more than nod?

Probably not. Who knew what sort of ideas of propriety Spock had picked up after years of living. She flashed briefly on a thought of her grandmother, prim and proper in her dotage, and kept her hands behind her back, posture alert and relaxed. "Ambassador," Nyota said as she inclined her head. She was painfully aware of Spock before her, and Spock standing on the other side of Kirk.

"Lieutenant Uhura." He stopped before her and he did not quite smile, but there was a light in his eyes and a slight quirk to his lips that she had never seen from Spock in a public setting. Clear affection, and it drew a grin from her, but then he was moving on to Doctor McCoy, and the expression was changing, but it was still the same message. She swallowed back any comments she had prepared, feeling slightly embarrassed that she had expected a conversation when there were others for him to greet, and stood straighter. When she looked, Kirk was smiling at her like he understood the feeling and she bit down on a laugh.

She watched the ambassador move through the others gathered with curiosity, wondering at those questions that she had revealed to her own Spock she didn't dare ask. This man knew her in ways she might not even know herself yet, knew how she might die, and more importantly, how she might live. Had she married him?

The moment she had the thought, she realized with a start that she had that answer already. She felt her stomach bottom out, more at having any knowledge than in reaction to a specific kind; her musings had not been meant to produce any conclusions and she had not been prepared for them. There was no knowing what exactly she had been to Spock in her other life. She would wager they had at least been what they were now. But he had not greeted her like a long-lost spouse; she knew that much, and she didn't like that she did. There would have been no embrace, of course, no verbal acknowledgment even, but would she not know? She knew Spock too well, and if anything, the ambassador seemed more expressive than her own.

Perhaps he was merely controlling his reactions so as not to give anything away of their futures? She would like to believe that, but watching him with the others quickly disproved that theory. He was subtle, as always, but there was a clear connection with each person he spoke with, in varying shades of familiarity. Even hers had possessed its own brand of rapport.

When the ambassador came to the end of the line, he turned back expectantly to Kirk, and again, the light in his eyes changed.

"I'll see you to your quarters," Jim said, stepping forward and waving a hand at them all. "Dismissed, everyone."

She watched them go, speaking lowly, the ambassador's aides trailing after them, and decided she was glad Kirk was escorting them rather than the yeoman that would be assigned to the Vulcan party. Spock deserved the personal touch. Her satisfaction with that warred with her unease.

She was worrying over nothing, she knew. Regardless of what she had been to this Spock, it didn't have to affect what she was with her own, and she was jumping to conclusions in any event. Sighing and gathering herself to return to shift, she turned to look at the Spock who remained.

He was watching the doorway as well, but as soon as he perceived her eyes on him, he turned and lifted a clearly amused eyebrow at her. She found herself grinning again, and turned to follow a grumbling McCoy back out into the corridors. 

* * *

"Everything okay?"

The conversation along the corridors of the ship had been perfectly easy, even with the aides present, but something about their absence and the quiet of the room, the way the ambassador stopped in the center of it with an odd look on his face; it threw Jim off in a way few people could achieve.

Spock came to stand next to a comfortable looking living area with long, low seating in warm earth tones. "These quarters are more than acceptable, Captain," he said.

Jim winced. "Captain?" he asked with a small laugh, stopping by the door.

"Would you prefer I call you Jim?" Spock asked. A small, too understanding smile came over his face and Jim tried to take comfort in it rather than unease.

He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "You called me that in my head, and it makes me feel less weird." He wondered if the choice was some kind of instinct for Spock, being back on board the ship which had apparently been his home for years.

Spock's smile turned wistful. "I apologize again for such an intrusion on your mind. A meld should not have been attempted while I was in such an emotional state."

Jim shook his head and tried to clear that day out of his mind by clearing his throat. "So, we're expected in the Neutral Zone in three days." It was an obvious sidestep, but a necessary one, in his opinion. "The location is to be decided as soon as we hail the Romulan ship that will be waiting to either accompany us or kill us," he joked.

Spock tilted his head quizzically. "I had not realized that was a concern of yours."

Jim didn't know where to put his hands, so he clasped them behind his back and rocked on his feet. "The Admiralty knows my concerns. They've been _noted_." If he wound up feeling he wasn't being taken seriously on that front, he would have his own Spock contact them. They would listen to him. Until then, he'd be giving them the benefit of the doubt; they weren't a bad lot, on the whole. Just bureaucrats.

"Ah." Spock said no more.

"Well, we're expected to take as long as we need, of course, so no rush-"

"Jim?" Spock interrupted quietly.

Jim stopped. "Yes?"

"This information - will it not be included in the brief tomorrow, with the rest of the delegates?"

"Uh, yeah." Jim decided that the vase next to the door was absolutely stunning, and examined it for a moment in earnest fascination, before deciding he was being stupid. He lifted his eyes to Spock's on purpose.

"Yet you have deemed it necessary to tell me this information now." The smile was back.

Jim coughed. "Because I'd rather be here than offering to give tours of my ship to people who probably just want to tell me how poorly they think I'm doing." He winced at the flare of a headache at the base of his skull, and remembered he still hadn't eaten.

"I am certain that is not the case."

Jim managed a chuckle. "I just meant the Tellerites."

Spock nodded with what Jim suspected was faux sobriety. "Ah, yes," he agreed. "Then perhaps," He took a step back toward Jim, hands moving to clasp amid the long sleeves of his robe, "I could offer my company in recompense once you have completed your duties. If that would be agreeable to you, of course."

Jim felt the grin he had been near unable to keep off his face in the transporter room pulling at his lips again. "Something tells me you've used this reward system before."

"Among others, Captain," Spock said without missing a beat and the smile froze on Jim's face. To his credit, he was pretty sure he recovered quickly enough for it to perhaps go unnoticed, but he had been around the block enough times to know flirting when he heard it. What his mind couldn't process, he instantly blamed on Spock's Vulcan naïveté.

"Uh," he said, and by now the expression on Spock's face had changed back to one closer to that he had worn upon entering the room, the moment gone and replaced by something far more distant, and unnerving in an entirely different way. It neared pity, on Jim's end. "The other... _my_ you... he plays a mean game of chess."

Spock's mouth flickered, but his gaze was on his surroundings again now. "You will find me meaner," he said, almost like a warning, and it got Jim laughing again.

"I'll take my chances," he said.

"As always."

The uncommonly familiar moment was almost back and Jim backed out of it with a small smile, nodding. "It's a date then," he said. "Uh... a deal." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "So I'm gonna go do this job I understand they pay me for. You're good here?"

Spock inclined his head toward him. "Of course."

Jim nodded again in farewell and then made for the door, suddenly and uncommonly eager for the structure of protocol. 

* * *

"So then you are well aware I captained a previous incarnation of your ship, Captain."

Kirk turned from giving a firm nod to Ambassador Gull's aide - who had just given up after having all arguments returned in volley - to find Ambassador April smiling at him. "Oh, yes," he said. "I read up on the history of the _Enterprise_, and I knew I had come across your name."

"Yes, but my ship was not as beautiful as this. It's gleaming and shining and part of me is jealous. The part that doesn't mind the black of space for years on end. But I'm old, and have grown comfortable with my wife and her cooking."

"He says you can't replicate my meatloaf," Sarah joined her husband and took his arm graciously, "but he's so set in his ways, he wouldn't really be able to tell the difference as long as I served the other on the same plate."

Kirk smiled wildly; something about an old couple made him grin like a little boy, wistful of what he could have seen had his father been present, but hadn't had. "Are you guys having fun?"

"This is the least stuffy affair we've been to in a while," Ambassador April said with a raised flute of probably replicated champagne, and tiny replicated bubbles. "Although, if Ambassador Gull tries to corner me one more time, the arguments are going to become real."

Kirk laughed out loud at that, and nodded. "I'm sure." He looked over and dress blues caught his eye, and a slightly bent, dark head.

Spock. His Spock. The Vulcan had stopped to speak with a trio of people, most directly to Storen, one of his counterpart's own delegation, but when he had finished whatever he was saying, his eyes drew up, unerringly met Kirk's and held. Jim swallowed.

He kind of hated when Spock did that.

Clearing his throat, he looked back to Ambassador April and his wife, who were watching him kind of strangely. Had he gone too long without speaking? Doctor April looked downright amused with him. He grinned stupidly at her and opened his mouth to say something appropriately inane.

"Captain."

Jim stiffened, but did not jump. The Aprils' eyes traveled to his side, but he didn't bother to look. He swirled the champagne in his own glass. "Ambassador, Doctor, you remember my first officer, Mister Spock." Who totally misread creepy eye contact as pleas for help. He took a sip.

"Yes, hello," Sarah said for both of them, and thankfully, Jim noted, did not reach out her hand. "We were properly introduced, but didn't have a chance to speak."

"Doctor." Jim felt Spock bow his head at both of them. "Ambassador. I am familiar and impressed with both of your careers in Starfleet and abroad. I am certain Doctor McCoy would relish the opportunity to, as you say, 'pick your brain', Doctor."

Sarah looked delighted by this. "I wouldn't mind returning the favor," she said, and tugged at her husband's arm. "And since the captain has already picked yours, I'm sure he'd excuse us."

Jim smiled at her. "Of course. We'll have plenty of opportunities to speak, this trip."

"If we have anything to say about it." Ambassador April reached out and gave Kirk's hand a firm shake before he allowed his wife to pull him along.

Jim stood still once they had gone, unsure what to do. Being around either Spock felt strange after his conversation with the elder this afternoon. "Well," he eventually said. "Hi."

When he looked, Spock seemed perplexed by an unnecessary greeting. "Hello," he returned though.

He gestured toward where the couple had ventured off to. "I was fine, you know."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was not under the impression you were not."

"Mm," Jim said around his next sip. He swallowed it down. "Just enjoy my company, huh?"

Spock's mouth moved, but his expression ultimately remained. "Occasionally."

Jim laughed and finished off his glass, staring down at the few droplets in the bottom.

"Storen tells me the Vulcan ambassador is occupied after the dinner this evening," Spock said, and though it was said with no specific tone, Jim still froze. "With you."

Jim set his glass on the tray of a passing yeoman. "That a problem?" he asked, not a challenge, but a question. As he had told Spock before, if it was, he would see to avoiding these things.

"Indeed not," Spock said. "Merely curious."

It was a strange word to use, probably more with the meaning of "interesting" than "odd," since there was no reason to think Jim wouldn't treat the ambassador like a friend, and it almost made him laugh again. It delighted him a little too much, making Spock nervous. He went to kid with Spock that it was an in-depth examination of the growth of his chess skills, purely for science, and then stopped himself, smile fading and suddenly missing the glass he had given up.

"Shit, Spock, I'm sorry, I didn't think about what night tonight was." And Uhura had probably made other _plans_ already, because she was awesome like that about Chess Night, and he was an idiot, and it would be so awkward to invite Spock to join him and the ambassador, but should he?

"Tonight?"

Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It really irked him when Spock was deliberately obtuse. "Our standing chess game."

"Captain, are you suggesting that I am somehow slighted because you have chosen to play chess with my counterpart tonight?"

Jim worked over the words in his mind, trying to pick them apart and find some iota of direction to latch onto, but came up empty. "Yes?" he ventured.

"Then you are mistaken. I accounted for the long hours the delegate dinner would take, and surmised that you would rather retire than try to continue our appointment." Spock didn't look offended, but then, he rarely did.

"Oh... well then." Jim resisted the urge to scratch the back of his head, feeling like he had totally misjudged the situation, and the adrenaline began to recede. "Great. I'll see you on the bridge, oh five thirty."

"Captain." Spock bowed and turned on his heel to leave. He engaged in small talk with various delegates and crew members, all the while contemplating what Jim had done. He had been honest when he said he had not felt slighted. "Slighted" was not the word he would use to describe his current state of mind.

He _felt_... unsettled. Disappointed because he rather looked forward to their appointment, and to find he had been cast aside for...

Cast aside for himself, really. Which proved it a perfectly ridiculous matter to dwell upon. No doubt it even explained away Jim's forgetfulness, which was creating the majority of his discontent. Therefore there was nothing left to consider but his own plans for the evening now.

Meditation or distraction would be in order. "Distraction" of course meaning "diversion", in the sense of activities to entertain, not to pull one's thoughts away from other matters on which they should be.

He would seek out Nyota then, explain the situation to her, and then ascertain whether or not she was available. And if she endeavored to give him any unwanted and unneeded sympathy regarding the issue, he would simply allow her to believe that her presence would constitute the Human concept of "catharsis." Even if that was entirely not the case. She would take pleasure in that.


	7. Chapter 6

"We will travel two days into the Romulan Neutral Zone, where we will rendezvous with the Warbird _Ra'kholh_ and its commander. From there we travel together to Nimbus III." Kirk tried to keep himself from swiveling in his chair. "Then we beam down to the planet and play nice."

"One doesn't _play nice_ with the Romulans," Admiral Komack spoke up from his seat and Ambassador April chuckled beside him. It even drew a brief quirk of the lips from the elder Spock.

Kirk smiled as well, glad for the interruption of the Super Serious Briefing. The questions and answers had gone on for almost an hour, and just now had they arrived at the heart of the matter, a summing-up of the files all present had received by data PADD upon arrival. The questions - or in the case of the Tellerite delegation, arguments - had been lengthy and in some places Kirk could have felt they were posed merely to consume his time further. "We have security details assigned to each delegation, rotating irregularly. You'll be briefed by my head of security, Commander Giotto, at the scheduled times to be found in your briefs. If there are no more questions, _Enterprise_'s Chief Medical Officer, Doctor McCoy, will give his brief on vaccinations strongly advised before time of beam down."

McCoy cleared his throat perhaps a bit too roughly and Jim hid a smile at the way the doctor shuffled forward to place his elbows on the conference table. Jim was utterly at home with attention, positive or negative, but his friend was not, and he was certainly no diplomat, any Southern charm aside. "We'll be administering several vaccines," he said, watching his PADD more than his audience. "'Strongly advised' is just the captain's way of saying 'required'. The Federation does not allow admittance to the Romulan Neutral Zone without taking precautions against certain diseases. You'll find the list specific to your own species on your PADDs."

McCoy then descended into the incredibly tedious task of listing and explaining each of the possible ailments each delegation would be immunized against. In addition to this, he cautioned that given the limited and hostile interactions involved with Romulans, much knowledge came from brief encounters or estimations on Vulcanoid physiology, and therefore, there was always the risk of contracting diseases as yet unknown. Looking around, Kirk realized that no one seemed pleased to hear that.

"Look on the bright side," he offered. "If we all manage to catch something new and deadly, we'll make history even if the talks fail."

It received a few laughs and definitely lightened the mood, but Jim noticed Komack looked less impressed with his joke than he had with his own. He couldn't allow himself to be bothered by it; he would probably annoy himself too if he were thirty years older. He glanced to the elder Spock again, listening attentively, and swallowed uneasily. He would have to ask him to know.

"The schedules for the vaccinations have already been assigned and you'll find your own appointments alongside your lists," McCoy said, and his tone was near relieved, so Jim assumed this was his conclusion. "We begin this afternoon."

* * *

And begin they did.

McCoy's whole staff was on-call to answer questions and shepherd the bureaucrats with the least actual amount of contact with him. But when a familiar dark head ducked in almost thirty seconds earlier than scheduled, Leonard stepped out of his office and beckoned.

"Ambassador," he said shortly, waving him in. For some reason, even though this was Spock, it wasn't, and he didn't want his staff gawking, whether or not they had been forewarned. He glanced over to see the disappointment in Nurse Chapel's face, and knew he had made the right decision.

"Thought you'd want to be away from pryin' eyes," he said gruffly as he closed the door behind them.

"That was most considerate of you, but I am not perturbed by their curiosity. It serves to remind me that I am a visitor here, and should tread as such."

Leonard shook himself out of his stupor and nodded hastily. Watching the man move and talk was so _eerie_, and now he was only doing what he claimed to be protecting the elder Spock from. "Yeah, well I'd rather give you the vaccines myself. You're the chief negotiator down there if I understand what Kirk was babbling at me, and that means if you croak, it's on my watch. And I try not to let people die on my watch." He produced the sterile tray of hyposprays with an almost child-like glee.

Spock sat there and merely looked at him with what he would almost call a smile. This was getting a little too strange. Leonard cleared his throat. "So, what's the plan down there? I didn't think a Vulcan would want to come try and make peace with the Romulans after what happened," he said bluntly, and set the hypospray against the ambassador's neck, pressing. Spock did not flinch, but his eyes glanced over at his face and then away again.

"Forgive me, Doctor McCoy, but I have not seen you as young as you are now in quite some time. It will take some getting used to."

"Missed my pretty face?" he joked, and Spock did give what could only be described as an actual half smile this time.

"Occasionally," he said, and Leonard laughed. He was beginning to understand why Jim was so fond of this version of his friend. It was comforting to know that Spock might actually pull the abnormally long stick out of his ass one day and endear himself to someone other than Jim and Uhura. "You must understand, Doctor, that Vulcan is the crux of the issue. Whether it is a desire to make peace, or simply to prevent war, I have no choice but to be here. In truth, I would be no where else."

McCoy shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough, I guess." He set aside the first hypospray, now empty. "That Vulcan for 'it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it'?"

"I have indeed missed your colorful expressions, Doctor."

"So, yes."

There was that greatly unnerving almost-smile again. "Yes," Spock said.

McCoy lifted the next hypospray, satisfied. "Tuvan Syndrome," he explained, before pressing it to the ambassador's neck as well. "So, am I as ruggedly handsome as you remember?"

"I am afraid I recall you more as I last saw you, several years ago." Spock lifted a hand to his neck as McCoy withdrew, but of course did not wince. His dark eyes lowered. "I am not generally the sort to keep holos or other keepsakes."

"So then, I'm even more handsome than you remember," McCoy chuckled, and actually felt bold and comfortable enough to pat the ambassador's shoulder. He felt a little awkward after he had done it, but it was nothing compared to the unease he often experienced in the younger's presence. "What about our Miss Uhura?" he teased, setting aside this hypospray as well.

When he looked up from that, Spock's expression was different, but he wasn't sure how. His eyebrows were slightly lower. "I had not seen the lieutenant for some time as well," he offered. "She is lovely, as always."

Spock was surely just being careful not to reveal which of the two of them was to outlive the other, Leonard decided. "Yeah, well," he smirked, administering the third and final vaccine, "may not wanna get too friendly with her, if you know what I mean. I think Jim can testify that the other Spock doesn't care for it. Her either, when it comes to Jim for that matter, but I don't think you'd have to worry about that."

Up came the ambassador's hand to his neck again as McCoy finished. "My counterpart discourages the lieutenant's friendships?" he asked, and McCoy paused to look up at him, pretty sure he wasn't playing dumb as was sometimes the younger's wont.

"No, just... I was kidding," he said.

"I see," the ambassador said, and McCoy knew Spock well enough to know that meant he really didn't.

He grinned at Spock anyway and stepped back. "You're all set," he said. "Take it easy this evening; you're likely to have some head aches or nausea, and your neck might swell there a little."

Spock rose to his feet, looking decidedly thoughtful. "Thank you, Doctor," he said.

"Just doin' my job. Now shoo and stop crowding my sickbay." It was said lightly and the brief return of Spock's small smile let him know it was taken as such.

Sure enough, as Spock left, he was not offended, merely confused. He paused in the outer sickbay, watching the occasionally staring staff mill around amid the smattering of patients and delegates, and pensively reached up to finger the only keepsake he did in fact maintain possession of, dangling from his neck, before moving out into the corridors again.

* * *

It happened every time the doors opened on the bridge; everyone who was not busy with a vitally important assignment looked over and straightened.

"Admiral on deck," was announced by Haines, and everyone at liberty to rise did so at attention, including Spock.

"At ease," Admiral Komack said with a quick nod of his head. Everyone returned to their duties, except for Spock, who currently had the conn. "Commander Spock, may I have a word?"

"Certainly, Admiral." Spock followed his gesture to a less populated area of the bridge, where he understood a human brain would derive a semblance privacy and isolation, however impossible the notion. He waited as Komack stared back at him, obviously anticipating being set at ease with a human colloquialism.

Spock stared straight ahead and waited.

Komack cleared his throat. "I see you're in charge right now," he began, and trailed off.

"That is correct, sir."

"Where is Kirk?"

"As it is currently beta shift, his past habits lead me to believe he is either in the officer's mess or in his ready room."

"Why are you still here and your captain is not?"

Spock could pick up on the subtle change in Admiral Komack's tone, and tilted his head. The reason behind it eluded him, but he answered promptly. "I am Vulcan, and therefore do not require as much rest as a Human. We are able to further presence of senior command without the detriment of performance if the captain and myself stagger our shifts. Most days I am present on the bridge until late beta shift. I am given to understand that this system is not unusual."

Komack waved a dismissive hand and glanced around the bridge, inciting a curious Lieutenant Riley into facing forward again. "No, of course not," he said, eyes taking in everything. "But I was under the impression he was aware I would be visiting today."

"He was, Admiral," Spock said. "Without a scheduled time of appearance, it is only natural for shifts to operate as they always do, the captain's included." Here, Komack's gaze darted back to him as though he were about to take offense at that, but Spock's austere expression must have calmed him. "I have been authorized to interrupt whatever duty is currently occupying him in the event of your arrival, however."

"No, that's..." There went the hand again, "that's not necessary. This won't be my only visit, I'm sure, and I can see well enough how the bridge operates. May as well observe several shifts."

"Indeed, Admiral."

"So, tell me then," Komack turned to face Spock fully again, attention solely resting upon him, "how is Kirk doing?"

Spock thought for a moment. The admiral appeared concerned and he could discern no reason to be; surely he was not under the impression that Jim's presence was expected on the bridge at this time and Spock was choosing not to reveal this. "You must excuse me, Admiral, but I am uncertain as to what exactly you are asking." There were too many possible avenues a Human could mean by such a query; relative skill, emotional state, physical health.

"With the new command," Komack explained. "Is he working out?"

Again, he was uncertain if the admiral was inquiring after how command was affecting Jim or how Jim was affecting command, but considering his position in Starfleet, he was inclined to believe the latter. Spock had been under the impression that the _Enterprise_'s success rate spoke for itself. "The captain is quite capable."

"Mm." The admiral nodded thoughtfully. "I know he performed admirably during the incident with Nero. Whether luck, skill, or some combination thereof, I have to commend him for that. I was told you had your own reservations about him at first." Here he paused, observing Spock's posture which Spock was loathe to admit had stiffened. "I understand he asked specifically for you as his executive officer. And that you refused."

Spock almost swallowed before he realized it was not necessary to his continued speech. "I did."

Oddly and surprisingly enough, Komack did not ask why he had changed his mind, which was likely for the best. Spock had no desire to give the man reason to question his counterpart. "So as a man who can understand why an officer would be disinclined to trust Kirk, I'm asking you... can I? Can we?"

Spock hesitated. "I believe I already answered that question, Admiral." Komack watched him, and when no reaction seemed forthcoming, Spock went on. "The _Enterprise_ has an eighty-eight point three percent success rate, and Captain Kirk's approval rating is-"

"High, I know." Komack sighed. "He's young."

"I believe we can hardly count that as his own fault."

Komack actually smiled, even though Spock had not been attempting to make a joke. He supposed it was the kind of thing Jim might have smiled at as well, however. "Yeah," he said. A small degree of tension seemed to leave his stance. "I think maybe it's dinner time for me as well."

Spock nodded his head. "Admiral."

"Commander."

All present stood again as Komack made to leave the bridge and Spock watched this, hands clasped behind his back, before, decision made, he stepped forward before the turbolift doors could shut. "Admiral," he said again, out of the range of prying ears. Komack observed him curiously and Spock nearly sighed. "The captain is young. He is impulsive, brash, occasionally easy to anger, and he can appear cavalier. He procrastinates, and there is a great deal of protocol he does not yet understand and has no desire to learn." The door beeped at him, and Spock held it back, adamant. "And I have never worked under a man I trusted more."

Komack continued to stare at him. Ultimately, his only response was a single nod of acknowledgment before Spock finally allowed the door to slide shut.

* * *

A fruit salad with whipped cream was calling her name, so after four attempts to read the same paragraph in her daily report, Nyota decided that eating would be prudent. Donning a set of Starfleet issue sweats, she didn't bother to pull her hair up since she was off duty and brought along her report to read. Rounding the corner, she nodded at a few people and saw a set of doors open farther down the corridor. "Hold the lift," she called out, running to catch up.

She slipped inside just in time to realize who she was presently holding up. "Ambassador," she nearly exclaimed in surprise. "I'm sorry, I did not realize it was you inside the lift."

"You mean to say that if you had indeed known it was I who held the turbolift for you, you would have rather used the next?"

Nyota barked out a laugh as she realized Ambassador Spock had just teased her. "Of course not," she said, stepping inside. "I, just... seeing you is... strange." She stopped to call out her intended deck. "I could always use the preparation."

"Understandable," Spock said. "I feel the same with most I encounter here."

Nyota glanced to him out of the corner of her eye, watching him carefully stare into the middle distance, waiting for the doors to open again. It was rare that she had heard Spock use the word "feel" to describe his own experiences. She was more accustomed to "think" or "find" or "believe". "Sorry," she said, and it wasn't until he turned his head to look at her that she realized what she was apologizing for. She cleared her throat. "Obviously, it's more trying for you."

Spock lifted a familiar eyebrow. "Are we in contest, Lieutenant?"

Nyota smiled again. "No, I suppose not."

"Then I would say there is no reason to propose that my difficulty negates your own." His tone was incredibly gentle, enough so that she could almost imagine that he had known her as intimately as she hoped. "You are preparing to eat, then?"

Her brow furrowed, trying to detect a segue. "Uh, yes."

"It is nineteen thirty-six," he said, answering her unspoken question. "I make an educated guess." He turned to face the doors again. "Perhaps you are meeting someone?"

Nyota hesitated. Was he suggesting they eat together? Even if he wasn't, should she invite him along? She had intended to work during her meal or grab something to bring back to her quarters. "No, I hadn't planned to," she said. That was open enough. True, but not uninviting. "Would you like to join me?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I have already dined." He paused briefly. "Do you not have someone to share your meal with?"

Nyota thought of Spock briefly, and realized she hadn't seen him apart from their shared shift this morning. "I do, but he's currently unavailable." She glanced over at the ambassador and wondered if he could tell that her chemistry changed as she thought of his... younger self.

Probably not, as he hadn't made mention of it and Spock had never seemed to have trouble with that.

She looked up with a small smile to find him looking back at her almost curiously. It ignited her own questions again. "Is there something the matter, Ambassador?" she finally said. Silence had a comfortable place in her and Spock's relationship, so his steady regard did not unnerve her, but this was different. It was searching for something, examining it against something else. Was something found lacking?

"A curious phrasing, I have always found," he replied. "There are always ongoing matters."

She snorted a laugh. Spock could be brilliant at dodging. "I suppose so. Is something _wrong_, then?"

Spock swallowed, eyes still fixed resolutely on the door. She felt the lift thrush to a stop. "'Wrong'," he said as the doors slid open, "is a relative term, Lieutenant." He turned and offered her one of his slight smiles. "And I believe this is your stop."

Nyota paused, unwilling to break the eye contact for some reason. But she couldn't deny that he was right and that it would look odd if she stayed. She nodded and forced a smile of her own for him before stepping out into the corridor again.

* * *

Jim glanced up from his PADD and tried not to frown. "Come," he said quickly. Although he hated paperwork, as soon as he put his nose to the grindstone he was reluctant to be interrupted.

The doors to his ready room opened and Admiral Komack entered as if he owned the place, he thought dryly. "Admiral," he said, respectfully rising from his seat. "I did not expect a visit from you."

"Should I have made an appointment?"

Jim blinked and found the grace to smile. "Of course not, Admiral. Would you like to have a seat?" He gestured toward one of two chairs before his desk and resolutely took his seat again. Komack hesitated before he sat down finally, adjusting his tunic and clearly trying not to appear stuffy.

Kirk liked to think he was adjusting the stick up his ass; it had to make sitting uncomfortable.

"I did not see you in the officer's mess," Komack said.

He nodded and gestured to the PADD. "Lots of paperwork night before the big day," he said, referring to their rendezvous with the Romulan ship.

Komack cleared his throat. "I spoke with your first officer."

"Couldn't ask for a finer one than Spock," Jim replied easily. He shifted in his seat, but otherwise there was no outward sign of his impatience for the man. "Have you noticed anything against regulations or conduct you would like to bring to my attention?" he prompted.

The admiral paused, and shook his head. "No, I have not. Quite the contrary, Commander Spock is under the impression that you can handle this mission."

"Can't fault Vulcan logic," he joked.

"He has more faith in you than I do."

Jim felt his smile fade a micron. "I am aware that you're not convinced I can do the job."

"I do not see the merit in awarding what is potentially the most important mission in decades to the youngest captain in the fleet. It doesn't matter if he commands the flagship or not."

"Admiral, I would like to think that the men and women who weighed the situation and decided to pick me know what they're doing." The body Komack was a part of, Jim thought.

"Kirk, I hope you've been able to absorb some maturity while you've been in space. I think you'll need more than your boyish charm to navigate this mission. This mission here, is politics." Komack rose abruptly with a nod. "I'll leave you to your paperwork."

Jim rose again and nodded himself. "Thank you, Admiral."

He watched the man leave and realized what he thought was indifference was actually dislike.


	8. Chapter 7

Kirk resisted the urge to glance at the time as they hovered over Nimbus III.

The longer they sat here, the more certain he became that this whole thing was going to wind up a fiasco.

Komack stood next to him, at an uneasy attention while everyone else with a console kept their heads down and pretended not to wait. The _Enterprise_ had arrived almost an hour and a half ago, the designated meeting time, and from the haughty eyebrow lifting of the Romulan communications officer he had spoken with, he had assumed, apparently foolishly, that the _Ra'kholh_ would be on time as well.

Kirk knew a power play when he saw one.

"Chekov, perform another scan," he said, and Komack glanced over at him with what looked like brief approval before he turned back to the screen.

"Aye, Kept- Romulan ship detected," Chekov said with surprise. "Decloaking off the starboard bow."

"We're being hailed, Captain," Uhura said after a moment.

"Onscreen." Kirk rose from his chair and turned on the smile. Romulans - of the not-crazy-and-tatooed variety - looked enough like Vulcans that he was unnerved by the clear return of it by the female gazing back at him. He cleared his throat. "Greetings," he said awkwardly, hating Komack at his side. "I'm Captain James Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_." He couldn't decide if he was offended or not at her expression of open amusement.

"Captain," She inclined her head and quirked her lips at him like he was a five-year-old dressed up in his father's uniform. "I command the _Ra'kholh_." And then her eyes purposefully skimmed down his form and he decided perhaps she wasn't quite regarding him as a child. He carefully didn't squirm; if anything, he could use that. "Welcome to the Neutral Zone."

He nodded at her. "Likewise."

"We look forward to... speaking, with all of you." Her eyes assessed the bridge, but many backs were turned to her, and no member of any of the delegations was present other than Komack in the center, who drew most of her attention in the end, along with Kirk. "We wait to receive your beam-down coordinates."

"My chief engineer is preparing to send them to you." Jim almost gave her an informal salute, before deciding that might not be entirely appropriate. "We'll see you planetside."

She lifted an eyebrow at him that reminded him too much of Spock, and then the screen flickered and he was once more presented with an image of the ship's exterior. He tapped idly at the arm of the chair he leaned on, brow furrowed, and then shoved away from it.

"Admiral, please prepare whatever you need," he said. "Uhura, meet us in the transporter room. Mister Scott will be taking over up here soon; until then, you have the conn, Mister Sulu." He stepped up to the second level. "Mister Spock, with me, please."

Spock straightened from his scanners and moved for the turbolift after him, making room for Komack when he followed. Jim was perfectly happy to have him as a buffer between the two of them; he had no desire to be alone in a room with Komack again for some time. He glanced over, noted them both staring impassively at the doors, but then Spock's eyes flicked over to briefly meet his, and Jim found himself grinning like Spock had all-out smirked at him. He folded his lips down and made a note to wheedle out of Spock just what exactly he had said to Komack to convince the admiral that he "had faith" in him.

Komack broke from them to stop by his quarters before departure and Jim sighed as they continued marching down the corridors on their own.

"You're coming down, right?" he asked Spock. There would be no talks today, but he didn't want to be alone.

"Captain, you do realize that selection of the away team is your prerogative?"

Jim scoffed and, in a way he might not have with anyone else, said, "I'm not gonna order you to hold my hand, Spock."

"Then it is perhaps fortuitous that I had presumed an invitation in your request to accompany you from the bridge." He glanced at Jim like he had in the lift.

"And that you make a habit of not letting me beam anywhere alone."

"Indeed."

Jim considered reiterating his indignation about that, but he figured the fact that he actually felt he needed Spock this time around would negate it anyway.

They continued walking in silence down the short hall to the transporter room. Commander Giotto stood at attention with three of his crew in dress reds, looking uncomfortable in the unfamiliar ornamentation of his uniform. The security was supposed to be _symbolic_, in case the Romulans instigated some _symbolic_ bullshit. "At ease, Commander," Jim said with a grin.

"Captain, I must state again my reservations for dress uniform. They prohibit the natural body movements and-" Giotto sputtered off at Kirk's raised hand.

"Aw, save it," he cut him off. "We'll all be in monkey suits before this thing is done; you're not exempt." He turned to Scotty, waiting at the controls. "Are we ready to beam down?"

"Aye. We're just waiting to be joined by Lieutenant Uh-"

"Here," Uhura chirped as she slid into the room, slightly out of breath.

"Now our party is complete." Giotto nodded once as the lieutenant walked past him to take her place on the transporter pad. Kirk took a deep breath and joined everyone else, almost dismayed at the thrill of excitement that ran through him when he knew that the proceedings were likely to be rather boring.

This was supposed to be a totally not-routine routine peace talk, maybe.

"If only," he muttered to himself, and watched the lights dance before his eyes.

As soon as they faded and he could feel his stomach again, he blinked, squinting and immediately raising a hand to his brow to shade his eyes from the blinding sun. He held back the cough that wanted to rise at the hot, dusty air.

"I thought this planet was terraformed," he said to Spock, kicking experimentally at the dirt.

"Part of Terran terrain is desert, Captain."

Jim snorted and looked back up with a sigh. "Where are they?" he asked impatiently.

As if in answer, the Romulan landing party began materializing and Jim stiffened, suddenly grateful again to have Spock there. Uhura stepped to flank his other side and he shot a smile at her.

"Captain."

And there was the disarming Romulan commander again, standing not ten feet away now.

"Commander," Jim replied, glad for military ranks, as he had yet to learn her name. He nodded toward Spock, whom she was already observing with interest. "My first officer, Mister Spock." He looked to Uhura, wondering if he should introduce her considering her proximity, but would that get them into a long list of introductions that were meant to be handled tomorrow? There was no need to name the security team and the delegates were still not present.

She smiled at Spock and gestured to the man at her own side. "My sub-commander, Tal."

Jim nodded at him, as did Spock, then turned back to her. "And you are?" he asked, fishing for a name.

Her eyebrow traveled up again. "Eager to get settled, Captain."

Oddly enough, it made him want to grin at her, so he did. "Aren't we all," he said good-naturedly. "Spock?"

"The settlement where the delegations are to be housed is due east, Captain."

"All right then." He smiled at her again and spread a hand before them. "Shall we?"

Her eyes darted to Spock again, and then in silent agreement, she stepped past him to lead the way.

* * *

Uhura stared up at the sky and sighed.

"Lieutenant?"

"I'm alone, Spock," she said lowly, not turning.

"Yes." he said, coming to stand beside her. He glanced up at the sky as well and saw nothing but stars. "What is causing you distress?"

She shook her head and crossed her arms. "Nothing _per se_, just the foreign sky. There are two moons."

"We have traveled to worlds which have had dozens of moons; why is this world so startling?"

Uhura smiled and turned to look up at him. "I think it's more than just the moons. If we're successful here, Spock, it could mean a major change in our universe. If we're not... Sometimes I think we shouldn't even touch anything, because it's so fragile..."

Spock still did not understand the Human desire to leave things in a precarious situation and then ignore them, as if mere force of will could tip something one way or another. He thought of Jim Kirk suddenly, and realized, however illogical, there might have existed some bit of truth to this Human concept.

"It is best to address this as soon as possible." Spock straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "I will perform my check-in with the captain now."

"Will you come back?" Uhura asked, eyes on him again. "I know I won't see you much over the next... however long this takes."

Spock hesitated. They had all prepared quarters planetside, including the Romulans, as a sign of trust. He had already been assigned his own, and had looked forward to a brief visit with his counterpart and perhaps some meditation before the talks began. He looked at Uhura's hopeful expression and nodded briefly.

He could find balance here, with her, as well. "I will return when I am finished."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a bright smile. Spock gave her a teasing raised eyebrow before he turned to leave.

* * *

"Who is that?" Kirk asked as he squinted at the figure in the distance. He had not expected to find anyone else outside after dark, and this planet was only safe as far as he knew.

"That would be Ambassador April, Captain," Spock told him calmly and the tension seeped out of Jim's shoulders.

"Jim," he said absently, then turned to the Vulcan. "Spock, you can call me Jim right now. We're alone and off-duty... so to speak."

Spock nodded and both men continued their circuit in relative silence. "Jim," he said after a moment, slight emphasis on his name, "you have been quite silent since we've arrived to settle the delegates. Does something trouble you?"

Jim snorted and half-shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Something doesn't sit right."

"Interacting with one's enemies often produces high stress."

"Isn't that the truth," he muttered.

"You are aware that, as a Vulcan, I do not lie."

Jim turned to Spock to retort, but found his first officer looking guileless. "Did you just make a joke to break the stress?"

"I have found logic in the practice of employing humor to release tension in Humans."

The last two words were almost a sentence all their own and Jim rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes." Kirk looked back over to Ambassador April and sighed. "I'm going to retire for the evening soon, you should check in with the ship."

"I will see you in the morning, Captain."

Jim nodded and left the path to traverse the sand toward April. "Ambassador," he called, so as to not startle the man. "May I join you?"

"Robert," the ambassador said, and it took Jim a moment to realize that it was an instruction of the sort he, himself had been giving to Spock. He smiled at Jim as he approached. "I hadn't planned to find company out here. Might throw me off."

Jim smiled back uneasily, unsure if the ambassador was entirely serious. "Throw you off?"

"I'm a military man, Captain," he told him as Jim began to walk at his side, "with a flare for diplomacy. There are times when I'm still not quite used to this." And here he waved a hand and Jim followed it like he might see something before concluding that April was simply gesturing at the planet itself, implying the talks. "So I practice."

Jim's smile became a half-disbelieving grin. "Practice."

"I think up questions and scenarios and I answer and respond to them. And I'm sure I look ridiculous doing it, which is why I'm out here."

"You want me to go?" Jim offered, not at all serious.

April chuckled. "Hardly. You're here too, and will be there tomorrow, know what it's like; I'm in good company." He glanced to Kirk. "How are you finding life aboard the _Enterprise_?"

Jim laughed awkwardly, suddenly glad that walking their path as they were kept him from having to meet the ambassador's eyes unnecessarily, as in a typical conversation. "Honestly?" he said. "I love it."

April nodded, and there was that look in his eye that his wife had given Jim at the state dinner, like they understood things he did not and found this very amusing. "Back at the academy, when I told one of my professors that I wanted a focus in command, he told me I should only do it if I couldn't do anything else."

Jim frowned. "Like a last resort?" he asked.

"No," April laughed, and looked at Jim. "Only if I couldn't _not_ do it. It's a job you can't do halfway; anything less than a calling for it is..."

"Good enough isn't good enough?"

"Exactly."

"Well," Jim looked down to his feet, kicking at the sand again as they went. He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I don't know how good I am at it, but... I feel like I'm in the right place."

April reached out and clamped a hand on his shoulder briefly, the way McCoy might have bumped against him to force him to look up. "Then my guess is," he said with his own grin when Jim did, "you are."

* * *

It was entirely possible that the captain had meant for Spock to merely contact Commander Scott and request an update, but seeing as Spock knew Jim would be doing so anyway, and he also knew that Jim knew that Spock would have also done so, he could only conclude that he was meant to beam up and assess things for himself before retiring. In truth, he had been debating doing so before joining Nyota in the first place.

With the intent of getting this done as expediently as possible, Spock made his way from where he had left Jim to the original beam down point, where he knew atmospheric interference was low and he would be easier to immediately locate. Then he extracted his communicator from his belt and flicked it open.

"Engineering," was all he knew to say, aware that Mister Scott was currently on the bridge.

"_Yes, sir,_" he heard, and was going about placing the voice when another transporter beam materialized nearly on top of him. He stepped back from it, though that was of course unnecessary, and watched as the _Ra'kholh_ commander appeared before him. She looked surprised when she noticed him, and then pleased, and Spock unconsciously tensed.

"Commander," he greeted her.

"Mister Spock," she said. "I imagine we are both here for the same purpose."

He cocked his head slightly, but did not ask.

"We don't trust anyone else to run our ships correctly." Her lips curved up.

Spock felt his eyebrow travel upward. "That would be... one way of looking at it, yes." He subtly lowered his communicator and shut it, mindful of the listening ensign who required no insight into the proceedings planetside.

"Mm." Her eyes assessed him strangely from head to foot. "Where is your captain?"

Spock's grip on his communicator tightened. "He has entrusted me with seeing to the ship."

Her smile widened and Spock had been around Humans long enough to realize that she wanted to laugh at him, which he did not appreciate. "That wasn't quite what I meant," she said. "He is not with you." And it was almost a question and an odd one at that. Clearly this was the case.

Of course Spock knew where he was, but there was no reason to reveal the captain's location to the commander, and even less reason for her to desire it. "Commander-"

"My name," she said, and took a unwarranted step closer to him, which put her near his chin, "is Charvanek."

Spock stopped to consider it. "Rare," he said. "And beautiful." She looked pleased by this, and he supposed that was logical, even though he had only been speaking the truth. "Commander, the captain has retired. As I would enjoy doing as soon as possible."

The smile returned, unnerving if he were inclined toward unease. "I would as well," she said, and obediently stepped backward again. "Goodnight, Mister Spock."

"Goodnight, Commander."

She turned to go and Spock opened his communicator again, watching her back draw farther and farther away across the sand, back toward the settlement.

"Ensign," he said, brow still furrowed. "One to beam up."


	9. Chapter 8

Nyota allowed her mind wander over the multitude of languages in her vicinity and repressed the urge to smile widely. She was in her element, listening in on whispered conversations spoken in tongues from planets light-years away from here and each other.

It was glorious music.

She turned slowly and caught a glimpse of a blue sleeve, and as the Andorian ambassador stepped toward his aide her view of Spock became completely unobstructed. Nyota's inscrutable expression fell away to reveal fondness before it morphed into inquisitiveness, a silent question in her eyes. He stared at her a moment, but she could read no explanation in his own.

He had not been by her side when she had woken this morning, or any other morning since the talks had begun; normally he would say goodbye before he left to do whatever vital duty required his personal attention. She sighed, realizing that the most she had seen him or would see him for the duration would likely be at arms length, across the room. She would have to plan stolen moments.

Nyota watched as Kirk stepped forward with what looked like a refreshment of some sort. The day's talks were not scheduled to begin for another forty-five minutes and various first meal offerings had been set up on the tables against the wall, served in the traditional manner of each culture. She watched with amusement as the captain chomped happily at a piece of bacon, mostly for the look of veiled disgust it earned him from Spock.

"What?" she heard Kirk ask, too innocently. "I didn't know they had pigs in space. I'm pleasantly surprised."

"No doubt, Captain," Spock replied, eyes on his PADD, "it is an import."

"Well, that makes it even more special then." Kirk crunched into another bite. "Eager to please, aren't they?" And he studied the strip of bacon like it was a clue, looking half-serious.

Spock looked up, seeming to consider it himself, and at that moment, both his gaze and Nyota's traveled to the door, where the Romulan commander was now entering, flanked by an unfamiliar aide.

"Indeed," Spock said warily, as they all watched them move to pick over the food selection.

Kirk grinned and leaned into Spock's shoulder a bit. "She make you nervous, Spock?"

Nyota glared at him teasingly and Jim just turned his grin briefly on her.

"Hardly, Captain."

Kirk sat back in his seat. "So, it's just me, then."

Nyota was unsure if that meant the commander made Jim nervous or if Jim was implying that he made Spock nervous. She imagined both were true. She watched curiously, but Spock did not immediately respond.

"You do not make me nervous," Spock eventually said, "as 'nervous' is an emotional reaction."

"Oh, you have 'em. Like when your left eyebrow twitches when I take your queen." Kirk's tone tumbled into a self-satisfied purr. "We both know you're surprised time and again."

"Quite the contrary, I have learned not to underestimate you, and thus our game has become satisfying on another level." Spock had stopped reading and was pinning Kirk with a level gaze. It was a look Nyota had often received in his classes at the Academy.

"Oh? I-"

"Lieutenant, may I speak with you, please?" Ambassador Gull stepped in front of her, almost invading her space and causing her to glance down, away from Kirk and Spock. "I have an issue with yesterday's translated transcript."

Nyota opened her mouth but shut it quickly, forcing a smile. "Ambassador, it would be my pleasure. Exactly what has given you issue?"

"Many things. You see here." He lifted his PADD for her to peruse and pointed. "Does this word have different connotations in Standard that I am unaware of? Because if so, I do not believe my delegation can concede-"

"Ambassador," she heard, and Ambassador Spock stepped up behind the diminutive man. "We are adjusting the order of today's introductions, and I would appreciate your input."

She shot him an infinitely grateful expression as he raised an eyebrow and led the arguing Tellerite away.

The brief stillness of the vicinity led her eye to an abrupt gesticulation, and back to Kirk. He had finished his bacon and the tips of his fingers were resting on the golden braid at the wrist of Spock's dress blues.

She looked again to Ambassador Spock, who looked back at her with the almost probing gaze she had grown used to from him. Why was he making a habit of looking at her like he was trying to figure her out? If anything, she should be looking at him that way. Nyota heard Kirk laugh and turned to find Spock, his almost-smile in place in reaction to Kirk's amusement.

"Lieutenant, may we have a word?"

Nyota turned and smiled. "Absolutely."

It was time to work, not to muse.

* * *

"And now, ladies and gentlemen," Jim watched Ambassador April lean forward in his chair to place his hands on the table, "we come to a rather... delicate matter."

Jim knew what was coming next, as did all the Federation delegations. It had been a matter of some debate during meetings on-board the _Enterprise_ before their arrival, both in terms of whether the stipulation would be made, and if so, who would be the one to present it. Sitting here now, watching it unfold, he was suddenly glad that Ambassador Spock had more or less insisted it not be the Vulcans. The more he thought about it, the wiser that decision seemed.

"Make no mistake, the Federation realizes that the war criminal Nero and his ship were not acting at the behest of the Empire, and were, in the end, not even affiliated with it." The ambassador took a deep breath and Jim suddenly felt sorry for him. "But in the same way a parent must take responsibility for their child, there is the small matter of... reparations."

Jim looked to the Romulan commander, still sitting back like she owned the room, watching April across the table. "Reparations," she echoed, tonelessly.

"It is no secret that Vulcan society is attempting to rebuild, that the damages are irreparable-"

"If they are irreparable, Ambassador, I cannot claim to understand the validity of 'reparations'."

April sighed. "Let's not, shall we?" he said. "The founding members have been offering as much aide as they can, but more is needed."

"You concede we had no knowledge nor recourse of Nero and his crew-" the commander began.

"All parties have already agreed not to probe the validity of that claim," April responded.

"Yet you will ask us for supplies."

"Yes, that is the gist of this request."

"It's _illogical_. Almost... extortion."

"It's not extortion when you're asked to give of your own volition."

"The Federation rarely asks of one's own volition." The commander bristled visibly. "You speak in riddles and circles."

"You would know, since almost everything said in rebuttal at this table has been circular logic." Robert slammed his hand on the table and Jim jumped minutely. "Let's continue to pretend - even hope - the other side is stupid, and we'll be here for months, am I right? As I'm sure your government wants something to come from these talks, and we want something as well, figure out what you're willing to give, and we'll figure out what we're willing to overlook, and let's see if we don't meet in the middle?"

Jim had thought April had been about to quite uncharacteristically lose his head. Even out of the corner of his eye, he could see the way Ambassador Spock was tensed, ready to step in, and when he had noticed that, he found the same tension not only in his own Spock, but in himself. He forced himself to relax and set a hand on Spock's forearm.

It was only when a distinct smirk began creeping over the commander's features that he felt Spock ease.

"Commendable, Ambassador," she said, "saying what you mean. It will certainly make this go a lot more quickly if we all agree to forgo a great deal of diplomacy." She inclined her head, almost like a Vulcan, Jim thought. "While remaining courteous, of course."

He could almost hear April's teeth grinding. "Of course."

"Let us talk plainly, then." And she leaned forward in her chair, clearly putting herself on a more even keel with the ambassador. "We were not involved. As you claim you require our volition, I can tell you now, we refuse. You will be hard-pressed to convince any Romulan otherwise."

"And I can tell you now, Commander, refusing this point can make dealing with the Federation incredibly difficult."

"Is that a threat?"

"No one present would make threats, Madam." Jim watched the elder Spock lean into the table as well and raised his eyebrows at the younger like he was the one he was impressed with. "I believe the Federation and this delegation would merely be concerned that your refusal, particularly under the blanket statement of 'any Romulan', might stem from prejudice rather than logic."

"If we are to descend into discussing our races' long held hostility, Ambassador," she said, "I believe we will indeed be here for months. Years. You will simply have to have faith in our reasoning skills."

"Then maybe," Ambassador Shras said, "We should all part for our midday meal? Courtesies are better remembered and observed with full stomachs."

Kirk hid his smile behind his steepled fingers, and was thankful that the Federation had not sent only Humans and Vulcans.

"Agreed, Ambassador." The commander rose, along with her delegation, and she swept out of the room gracefully.

"Someone sure knows how to make an exit," he muttered to his right, into Spock's ear. He watched it twitch in fascination, and hadn't realized his name had been called until he was no longer staring at an ear, but into very dark brown eyes. "I'm sorry, what?" he almost squeaked.

"I asked if you were experiencing some form of ill effect from the heat," Spock repeated slowly.

Jim blinked and shook his head. "No, it's better today than yesterday, thanks," he said, and moved back into his chair. He shook his head and rose, thankful for the break amidst the quiet drone of multiple languages and chair scraping against floor.

"Then I do believe I will take a brief walk outside, to center myself."

"Yeah, I don't like feeling like I'm on the sidelines either. I want to _do_ something, or at least be the one talking. Too much is riding on this," Jim said wistfully.

Spock looked at him again. "Agreed," was all he could find to say. Sometimes it still surprised him, reminded him of how Human he truly was, when James Kirk voiced an opinion or concern that echoed one of his own.

His long strides carried him out of the room, and into a subtly cultivated courtyard. The beige sky above was cloudless, and there was barely a breeze to stir up the leaves of the foliage.

"Commander Spock. How did I know you would seek out one of the most tranquil sites afforded here?"

He turned. "Commander Charvanek. Quite a display of verbal acuity."

She smiled as she came to a stop almost too close for comfort. "I will take every compliment you give, because I know you do not give them often, nor freely."

Spock tilted his head. "No, I do not. Compliments are illogical. I speak the truth."

"Yet you called my name beautiful." Her eyes sparkled the way Jim's often did and Spock realized he must be being teased in some fashion.

"I stated an opinion."

"And if I happen to be flattered by your opinion," She took a step still closer and Spock took one backward as politely as he could, "well, neither of us can help that, can we?"

"I would agree," he said. "So long as you understand it was not the intent."

"Of course not." And she looked down like she was noting the space between them now. "Your race does not make a habit of catering to emotions."

The feel of the moment had changed entirely, and though he was grateful for the distance she was affording him, he could not escape the discomfort that accompanied it.

And then as suddenly as it had gone, her playful expression was back.

"How does your captain stand you?"

Spock felt his eyebrow soar, certain now that there was something inappropriate about this whole encounter, perhaps with all his encounters with her. Her baiting was quite similar to Jim's, but it was entirely unwarranted, and somehow fundamentally different for that. And given her illogical, seeming fascination with his captain, it was odd that she appeared to be interested in seeking himself out.

"Laboriously, Commander," he finally said, and she laughed.

"Oh, he's not nearly as bad as he thinks he is."

Both turned to find Kirk not far from the entrance to the courtyard, an inexplicable smile on his face.

"Commander," he said, "fancy meeting you here."

The Romulan frowned briefly. "I am not sure I understand all of your words, but your tone is mocking, to say the least. I think I will take my leave, and check on my ship."

"Why don't you do that," Kirk responded blandly. Both men watched her go, and if Jim were being honest - and there was no reason why he couldn't be - he admired the curve of her spine in her uniform. He walked over to Spock with a grin. "She was _flirting_ with you."

"Captain?" Spock raised an eyebrow as he regarded the man.

"She was interested in getting to know you in a sexual manner, Spock. She wanted to hump you to mutual pleasure." Jim cackled again, but cleared his throat when it seemed that Spock didn't get the joke. "Fine. But I'm gonna tell Uhura on you," he drawled, childishly.

Spock blinked. "I have done nothing which could be misconstrued as-"

"Spock, joke. Remember, we went over them before?" Jim exhaled loudly and turned around.

"Yes. A story with a humorous conclusion," Spock said. "Do you really believe she was interested in pursuing a sexual experience with me?"

Jim's heart began to beat wildly. "Why? Want to take her up on it?"

Spock turned to stare at him oddly. "She does not interest me," he said, and just when he looked like he was about to say something else, perhaps about Nyota, he shook his head and continued back into the room, where the smell of various foods wafted. Jim's stomach growled and that was what made him follow his first officer.

That was his reason and he would stick to it.

* * *

It had been a strange day. When he considered that, Spock was forced to conclude that visiting with his counterpart was likely to make it all the stranger, but Nyota had been planning to retire early this evening, and therefore, Spock saw no more convenient opportunity on the horizon.

He did not wish his counterpart to believe he was avoiding him. As Jim would say, he would never "hear the end of it."

Talk of the day's proceedings carried the conversation through dinner, and Spock had not planned to mention the commander's perhaps inappropriate behavior or any personal interaction with her. He had planned even less on the ambassador mentioning her.

"She is a remarkable woman," he said, and the tone was all that was strange about it, informative and not offhand.

Spock tried his best not to hesitate, but he was unsure he wished to ask the question. "Was she part of your unification work in your universe?" he finally asked, and the other gave a small smile.

"No," he said. "We did, however... associate. Our paths crossed more than once." His eyes darkened momentarily. "I owed her a great deal, in the end."

"For what?" Spock had asked before he could stop himself. He knew the moment he had that his counterpart would not tell him.

Sure enough, he shook his head and sipped at his tea. "For Jim's sake," he did say though. "It is complicated and irrelevant."

Spock stared at his own cup, thoughts of Jim only complicating things further. Surely the captain had only been looking to unnerve him earlier, but there was something very off-putting about the commander's interest. "She is... disarming," he said.

"Indeed. You have had cause to experience this?"

Had he been Human, Spock would have allowed himself to shrug. "She has approached me privately," he said.

"Fascinating."

Spock did not respond to that. The ambassador set his cup down.

"I had been under the impression," he told it, "that it was Lieutenant Uhura who held your regard." And here he looked up again, his eyes searching in a way that belied the controlled tone. "Is that not accurate?"

Spock nodded once. "She and I are in a romantic relationship."

His counterpart said nothing, but continued to sip at the rapidly cooling tea. "Is it a serious pursuit?"

"There is no pursuit. We are in a relationship."

The elder did not restrain his smile. "It was that talent for deflection which allowed me to report to Starfleet with a straight face many debriefings. However, it is not effective against myself, I am relieved to say. How would you characterize your relationship with Lieutenant Uhura?"

"This implies you mean to interrogate me."

"I would never do such a thing to myself; it would be illogical to force what I know will be answered eventually. This _enthusiasm_ you detect is merely a byproduct of curiosity. You will forgive me."

It was a statement rather than a question, and Spock found he did not mind the assumption. "Nyota and I," he started, allowing the use of her first name to denote gravity, "are in a relationship that I am ninety-four point six two percent certain will result in our being bonded."

"Such a high number," the other murmured.

"I do not make a habit of engaging in hopeless pursuits."

The expression that came over the ambassador's face at that was an interesting one; the way his mother had often looked at him when Spock had asked her questions as a child that he now realized in hindsight had appeared foolish or amusing to an adult.

The ambassador's smile remained, but it disappeared behind his cup again. "What a pity," he said, before taking another drink, and Spock did not agree that it was nor understand why his counterpart should think that it was, but he did not see the merit in asking. "May I ask," And he set his cup down again, "what constitutes the other five point three eight percent?"

"I have calculated the known," Spock replied. "Compatibility, both our histories, circumstances regarding our work, among other things. Variables, of course, always exist."

His counterpart stared at him unflinchingly now, his cup still on the table, and the same expression still in place.

"Indeed," he said.


	10. Chapter 9

Komack looked down at the fruit on his fork and turned it this way and that. The second sun shone through the window behind him, and turned his red robes to blood. "I am still not convinced we are totally prepared."

His aide, a fair-skinned woman called Conners, looked back at him with pale-eyed surprise. "Admiral, we've gone over every piece of the plan, all contingencies. We've planned for everything."

"And there lies the Human folly; to think we can prepare for the unexpected." He looked at his second aide, Nolfolk, a quiet man named.

"Sir, you previously approved the mission with its current parameters."

Komack nodded. "I did. Now I wonder. That's the job of a leader, to reassess the situation when new information has come to light." He set his fork down next to the bowl and sighed. "Let's run it again, quickly. Have we - "

The door to the chamber opened, revealing Jim Kirk and one of the Andorian aides and Komack paused. Kirk caught the admiral's eye and politely broke off conversation with him to join the table.

"Have we what, gentlemen? Tasted the bacon? Because I surely have," he said with an easy grin.

"We're discussing Earth Outpost Four," Norfolk said coolly. "Sir."

Jim cocked his head and nodded gravely. "I haven't been fully briefed on the incident, but-"

"You were not briefed because it has nothing to do with you," Komack interrupted. "Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

Jim blinked but nodded. "Duly noted. I'll leave you to your meeting, Admiral." He rose as quickly as he had sat to go to the remaining selections offered for breakfast.

Uhura was already there, hovering over the fruit selections and discreetly watching his approach. Jim grumbled to himself as he neared her; it was quite clear that she had been watching the exchange.

"Did you see that?" he asked her, though he knew the answer. "He hates me. I'm not crazy; you're my witness."

Uhura snorted at him and grasped at something fuzzy like she was testing its ripeness. "From the little I heard before you arrived, I think you only interrupted something important."

Jim grabbed at another of the fuzzy fruits, heedless of its identification. "Look, I'm not asking for him to sit down for tea and crumpets. Or even to be _nice_. He's my superior officer, not my friend. But there's a difference between 'not nice' and just... '_rude_'."

"And _I'm_ just saying I think you're taking it too personally, that's all." She set aside the fruit. "How would you feel if a crewman on the _Enterprise_ just waltzed into a briefing of the senior staff?"

"Well, that's..." Jim shook his head, "that's different."

"Is it?" She reached for another fruit. "I seem to recall you making a habit at the academy of looking as unprofessional as possible. You may have only yourself to blame," And Uhura dropped the fruit onto his plate; an apple, "_Captain._"

He glared at her. "Mutineers, all of you."

Uhura laughed at him, the sound too pleasant for his indignation. "If you want him to see you differently, give him a reason to-"

"Saving the planet wasn't enough?"

"-and if he's still the same way, well... he's just that way."

Jim tapped his fingers on the table as she continued picking her breakfast, watching her. "Uhura," he said, "have I ever told you how I find intelligence incredibly sexy in a woman?"

"Have I ever told you how I find sexual harassment incredibly _un_sexy in a man?"

"Many times."

She turned to stare at him, looking unimpressed in a way she must have learned from Spock.

"This isn't helping the 'unprofessional' thing, is it?"

Uhura shook her head. "No."

"Well." He bit into the fuzzy fruit. "At least you have a reason not to like me."

"I like you fine, Jim." And when he grinned at her, she leveled a finger at him. "Most of the time. Don't let it go to your head."

"Can I let it go to my-"

"Jim."

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

* * *

The rounds were something that hadn't been planned, but they were a great way for both Spock and the captain to talk over anything that required their attention while assuring the crew that they were not completely absent, despite remaining planetside for such long periods. Spock saw the logic in this, even as Jim Kirk recounted all of the reasons why they should accompany each other on this check-in, when really it was the captain accompanying _him_.

"The paperwork has finally been completed. Yeoman Rand reported that your office is clearing the daily requisites at near peak efficiency." Spock said, and he allowed a bit of approval to leak into his voice. Nyota had informed him that it was vital to give someone like the captain positive reinforcement.

Illogically, it worked much better than merely expecting the Human to do his job.

It was pleasing to know that Nyota was not under the impression - as Spock had originally been before he had learned different - that the captain, due to his apparent ego, required the opposite. But then, she was Human and female, with the seeming natural intuition endowed to both.

"That's because Rand doesn't bother me for the stupid stuff and just signs my name."

Spock glanced over at Kirk, who looked at him as if he expected a rebuke. Spock, less impressed than he had been a moment ago with Jim's efficiency and Jim, considered giving him one. Honestly, the yeoman completing the captain's paperwork broke a minimum of six regulations. However, it did seem that the results outweighed the disregard of the rules in this instance. He purposely did not sigh.

"I have nothing to say on the matter," he responded neutrally, and Jim's smile widened.

"Surprise, surprise. So," And Kirk bumped his shoulder with his own, "the lovely commander. I'm surprised she hasn't asked for a tour of the ship with you as her escort."

Spock knew the cadence of Jim's voice to be one of gentle mocking, a teasing amongst comrades, but it made him want to squirm. "I would not think the commander would have the audacity to request a tour of the _Enterprise_."

Jim shook his head. "It's just that she's shown a growing attraction to you. She is warm for your form."

"Captain, I do believe that the commander maintains equilibrium of temperature regardless of my proximity or lack thereof." Spock stared straight ahead and nodded at a few engineers that passed in a loud group. All four stood aside and at attention until he and the captain were well down the hall.

"I swear, Spock. You know more than you let on. Do you know how to let her down gently?" Jim looked at him, but with genuine curiosity, not a laugh.

Spock hesitated and then stopped walking entirely. Jim stopped and turned. "If I understand your meaning, negative," he said. "I am in need of..."

"Contraceptives? Sleep, candy, advice?" Jim grinned when Spock's expression, stony at the first, grew more neutral at the last. "You need advice from me?"

Spock's eyebrow rose and he continued to walk down the hall. Why he thought Jim would pause and listen for just a moment was beyond him.

"Spock. Spock, I'm sorry." Jim jogged to catch up with his long strides and tried not to laugh. "Do you honestly need advice?"

"Yes, Captain, I do." He twisted the fingers of one hand in the grip of the other, behind his back. "I had considered your... expertise in this area to be potentially beneficial. However, when now measured against your customary indelicacy, I am uncertain you are the proper party with whom to discuss such things."

"Hey, I'm the proper party. I-" They passed another group of crewmen and Jim grew silent at his side until they passed, nodding at them. "You know me; tell me to be serious, and I actually can be. So we're treating this as serious?"

"Indeed, Captain," Spock said. "The commander is appropriately subtle, but clearly persistent. I am uninterested and otherwise attached. This presents a situation which I would classify as 'serious'."

"Or at least not so funny."

"Had I assumed your meaning of 'serious' to be 'dire', I would have chosen that word."

"Ya stickler."

"I endeavor to be accurate, particularly in so imprecise a language."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." Jim waved a hand; why, Spock was unsure. "So. Well. I have many methods in my, er... repertoire."

"Of rejecting a woman's sexual advances," Spock said, for clarification, though he did not doubt it.

"Absolutely. Some people think I take all comers, but that's far from the truth." He stared into the middle distance and shuddered. "Now, not all of these are particularly nice."

"I find I do not mind if the method is particularly... straightforward."

"Alrighty then," Jim said with a grin, nodding appreciatively. "You can talk with food in your mouth."

Spock considered this very briefly. "I only wish to dissuade the commander, not others around me."

"Touche'. How about being deliberately obtuse?"

"I believe I have already employed that tactic. I do not know how much longer that will deter her."

"So you admit that you are deliberately obtuse in circumstances and situations when, in actuality, you're not?"

Spock turned this question over in his mind and tried to find a flaw that would allow him to answer in the negative, but there didn't seem to be one. "I would have to review the circumstances and situations in question to be accurate."

Jim sighed exasperatedly and shook his head. "One day, I swear. Okay. Perhaps you could look a bit less... put together?" He gestured at Spock's attire. "You're a very neat package. That's appealing to... most people," he finished quickly.

Spock looked down at himself. He saw nothing unusually immaculate nor appealing about his appearance. Indeed, the Starfleet uniform did not seem designed for desirability.

"Uh, you can look at other women when you're around her," Jim went on. "But since you can't look too unprofessional, that may be too subtle. You can correct her grammar; you do that anyway."

"Her grammar requires significantly less correcting than your own, Captain."

Jim glared at him. "Spock, I'm not sure I know what to tell you."

"That is perhaps just as well," Spock said. "The more I consider the situation and your artful suggestions, the more I realize a direct approach might indeed be more respectful."

"As in... just tell her?"

"Affirmative."

Jim gazed at him, mouth curving in a not quite smile. "Good luck with that," he said.

Though he was unfamiliar with identifying the Human concept, Spock thought he detected irony.

"Until tomorrow, Spock. Sometimes conversations with you are like verbal sparring. Tiring and I feel kind of sore after." Jim shook his head and turned down the hall. As soon as he could no longer feel the eyes of the Vulcan on him, he could breathe again. It was a little frightening how close he came to telling his first officer that he thought he was attractive.

In a very prim, proper package, that happened to show off his muscles very well.

Not that he had been overly paying attention to that, at all. And if he had been, there would be no good in telling Spock about a simple attraction. Because Spock was taken. And not his type. And it probably broke regulations. And because Spock seemed the monogamous sort. And several other reasons, Jim was sure.

Jim sighed just to sigh and turned into the empty turbolift. He couldn't deny that Spock's being uncomfortable with the very forward commander made him feel cheered for some reason. The commander was very beautiful and seemed smart and quick to go on the offensive, which definitely boded well in bed. Tough to compete with. If Jim had been competing. She didn't have Spock and neither did he.

Uhura did.

The thought burned on the horizon of his mind like lightning strikes and he could see the rest of the night, occupied in his own brainstorm. No, thank you, he thought. "Deck seven," he commanded, and the doors closed again to open just outside of the quiet medical bay. Chapel crossed the door with a PADD in her hand, and he smiled.

"Chapel," he chirped.

"Captain! What can I do for you? Are you hurt?" she asked quickly.

"No, just a social visit. As you were," Jim said with a nod. "Where's your boss? Torturing anyone tonight?"

"Did you come in for your next check-up early?" Leonard smirked at Jim, leaning against the doorway to his office. He jerked his head and returned to his desk, and when Jim closed the door he produced two short glasses and some nice, aged brandy. "Long day?"

"You have no idea." He accepted the glass gratefully and knocked back a nice swallow, enjoying the burn. "Haven't seen you much."

"I've been avoiding everyone with clearance higher than mine, or with a frown on their faces. Besides, you don't need me planetside yet. Unless someone fainted from some strange bug I have no way to counteract anyway."

Jim laughed. "I love your optimism, Bones."

"You don't come to me for optimism. You come to me for advice you ignore. So what's on your mind?"

Jim winced and held his glass out. "It's empty," he said plaintively. Leonard regarded his captain with an eyeroll and filled it halfway.

"Now talk."

"You know, sometimes, I just wanna see you."

McCoy stared at him, taking that in.

Jim stared back. "Really," he said.

"I believe you." The doctor sat back in his chair and it bobbed with his weight. "You know, Jim." He sighed. "Aside from your basic reactions to everything that happened last year, you seemed... pretty okay. You took command well, you were excited even. But you've been getting... you seem to be declining the past few months." When Jim looked up sharply, he waved a hand at him. "Not as a captain, Jim. Just... you. I lived with you for a year, you were never like this."

"Like what?"

McCoy shrugged a shoulder. "You tell me."

"I don't know, Bones." Jim stared at his glass. "Harder than I thought it would be, that's all. But that's the job, right?"

"Well. Yeah, I suppose, but... harder how?"

Jim debated his answer, wondered if the truth made him sound a great deal weaker than he would have liked. "Lonelier, I guess."

"You can always get laid on shore leave," McCoy said with a smirk.

And Jim knew his friend wasn't entirely serious, but he still found himself saying, "That's not what I mean. I mean... it's not _not_ what I mean, I guess, but... it's not." Jim squirmed in his chair. "I mean, I can't really relate to people from the position I'm in. I mean, there's you, and there's Spock, and you guys are great, but you know. You have lives and jobs too."

"You're just adjusting, Jim, it's fine."

"Yeah, I know." Jim chuckled to himself, and it came out sounding forced even though he was truly amused. "It has been a while, though. Getting laid. Even Spock is starting to look good. I think my subconscious just knows he's one of the few people on-board I'd be allowed to fuck."

McCoy's reaction was not instantly forthcoming, and it made Jim nervous for a good five seconds. "Yeah, well," he ultimately said, "you start getting ideas about me, you warn me, you got it?"

Jim grinned at him. "'Cause then we'll know it's getting bad."

"Amen."


	11. Chapter 10

"_Greetings, my son._"

"Greetings, Father. I trust you are well?"

"_I am. We thrive, however tenuously._"

Spock nodded, his hands clasped in his lap. "The purpose of my call is to inform you of what I can regarding the talks."

"_The Romulans - are they being cooperative?_"

Spock thought of the commander, and wondered how difficult it would be to walk the line between the obvious pride of the Romulan race, and the need to concede something to the Federation.

"As well as is to be expected. The weather here is well-suited to both our races. The Humans require constant hydration."

Sarek nodded briefly. "_That is to be expected. Captain Kirk, has he found himself beyond his skill set?_"

"No, he has not. Quite the contrary; his apparent ease of conversation removed tension at key moments, and allowed everyone to proceed with maximum efficiency."

"_Then perhaps I have misjudged the captain._"

Spock considered that statement. Spock himself had misjudged the captain, and not only in diplomatic skills. It was hardly surprising that the same could be said of his father. Jim was hardly the sort Sarek was accustomed to conversing with, or respecting, and it would take the close working conditions Spock had been forced into to make him truly see different.

There was no reason whatsoever why it should be necessary for his father to appreciate Jim, yet the idea that he did not was surprisingly disquieting.

"As have I," Spock said. "You did not meet him under the most... favorable conditions."

"_Nor flattering_."

"Indeed."

"_Nevertheless. There is evidence of his character now. I have made the mistake of misjudging you in the past as well._" Sarek met his eyes unflinchingly like he had in the transporter room the last time he had been on-board the _Enterprise_. "_I do not intend to make it a habit._"

The only outward reaction was a blink from Spock. "Thank you, Father."

"_It is illogical to thank one for observing facts._" But Sarek seemed vaguely amused, though nothing in his face had changed. "_Until next time, my son._"

Spock stared at the blank screen in wonderment.

* * *

"Will I live," the elder Spock deadpanned.

Leonard glanced at him in surprise, unsure if he was joking, an appalling prospect from his counterpart as far as he was concerned, no matter what Jim said. He shook his head. "I almost dropped my instrument, you poin- I mean, Ambassador." He shook his head again and sighed. "This is still strange to me."

"It will continue to be strange to me as well, so perhaps we are not at such a disadvantage to each other." Spock regarded the doctor. "I know how you hate to be at any disadvantage."

Leonard paused and replaced the hypo of cortisone. "Just a mild adverse reaction to something you brushed against. It's only dermatological, but I don't suggest you frolic through the bushes anymore."

"I assure you I am beyond the age of frolic, Doctor."

Leonard nodded as he stared at the patch of oddly green skin on the older Vulcan's forearm. "I think I want to ask you a question," he hesitated.

The elder Spock merely waited.

"Um, it's about Jim."

Spock continued to wait, but his posture stiffened, something McCoy would have had no knowledge of had he not still been holding his arm.

"'M not makin' you nervous, am I, Spock?" he couldn't help smirking.

Spock withdrew his arm and settled it in his lap. "Hardly, Doctor," he said, and there was a tone there that McCoy was far more accustomed to than the elder's gentle air of amusement.

"Sorry," he said, though he kind of wanted to press the attack just for the hell of it. He cleared his throat. "I mean, I don't know how it was there." He made a vague gesture that he hoped accurately depicted the Vulcan's other reality. "But here... I dunno, you're one of the few people Jim will talk to other than me, and I... you and I aren't so... chummy, but if we were, you'd be someone I could go to. About Jim. Who would have enough information for an opinion. I mean, I don't know if you two are as close as he and I are, but you don't hate each other anymore at least. And for Jim to talk to someone... _really_ talk to them... it must be more than a good working relationship by now, at least."

Spock watched him throughout the speech, brow slightly furrowed. When McCoy came to the end of it, somewhat expectant, he shook his head at him. "Forgive me, Doctor, I am not certain I understand what you are asking."

"Oh, uh," McCoy rubbed at the back of his neck, "I just mean... I can ask you about Jim, right?"

"A complicated question," Spock said. "Whatever familiarity exists or does not exist between Jim and my counterpart, the only information I am capable of imparting is that which your and my Jim happen to share. Neither of us know the extent of those similarities."

McCoy sighed. "What I mean to say is, you knew Jim pretty well, right?"

"I did."

"Okay, then."

They both waited, and it took McCoy a moment to realize they were both waiting on _him_, so lost was he in how to word it.

"Was that the extent of your curiosity, Doctor?"

"No," Leonard said, perhaps too quickly. "Jim's been... 'depressed' seems too drastic a word, so I won't use it, but... down. Sort of. Part of me thinks it's the new command, and I'm sure that is at least some of it, and I think he's pretty sure it's _all_ of it, but it feels like there's more. He mentioned being-"

"Lonely."

McCoy stopped, surprised that Spock's interruption had not been phrased as a question. "Yeah."

"A common enough problem with command, especially for Jim."

"I don't know, I suppose so. Just the way he seems to be reacting to it..."

Spock's eyes were gentle and open, still waiting for more, and McCoy swallowed. He was making entirely too much of this. It was entirely possible that Jim just had a serious case of blue balls.

"Maybe I just need to hear that he's gonna be all right," he finished. "That it's a phase, normal."

"Normal, perhaps, though I cannot promise it will subside so long as he remains captain." Spock glanced down to the irritated patch of skin on his arm. "I can promise he will adjust. If I know Jim." He paused. "Is he reacting in an unusual fashion?"

McCoy bit his lip, reaching for the gauze in his tray and bypassing the dermal regenerator. "I'm just gonna wrap this with some balm."

Spock said nothing to prompt him to answer, merely watching him go about spreading the salve on his arm, but McCoy still felt the need to answer.

"I don't know," he said. "Weird for Jim, I guess. You know how he gets between leaves."

"Indeed."

"It's just that. Loneliness in all ways. I think he's just not used to going so long."

"... I see."

"But he has me, and... and you." McCoy looked up as he placed the edge of the gauze to wind around Spock's arm, eyes darting quickly back down again. "Right?"

Spock hesitated before answering, and Leonard didn't quite know what to do with that. "Naturally."

"Thing is..." McCoy spoke slowly and kept his eyes on his work, unsure if he wanted to broach this. "If I didn't know better... I mean, you know Jim's the type to flirt and joke and... but that's, you know. It's playing for the most part. Like with Uhura. Would you consider it a little strange if he made a joke like that to me?"

"The captain propositioned you?" There was enough discernible shock in Spock's voice that McCoy knew he wasn't teasing.

"No, no, no." And he couldn't help laughing a little at Spock, because there was a picture. "No. If he had done that, I would just think he was he was messing with me. It was about someone else. My point is, he was joking. About that someone. But not to them, where he might get a reaction. Just to me. That sound weird to you?"

There was a pause again, but this time, McCoy knew Spock was just thinking. "It is a small thing," he said.

"Not to a best friend." McCoy said it because he had heard it in Spock's tone anyway. He wound the gauze around again. "It was almost like he was trying to make it seem like nothing. So I'm just wondering if it is."

McCoy was still wrapping when Spock answered, so he didn't see the expression on his face, but he felt him give an actual sigh and was surprised by it. "Shall we agree to be candid, Doctor?" he asked. "There is a reason you ask me this and not someone else who clearly knows your captain better, my counterpart included."

McCoy pulled the gauze too tight, but Spock didn't flinch. "So if you... other you... if you were the 'someone'," he said, "you wouldn't be surprised."

Spock stared him straight in the eye and McCoy saw his throat work. "I would not."

McCoy stood there a moment, motionless, before he remembered to fasten the gauze. Then he took a step back, setting his tray aside, and sighed himself, shaking his head. "Maybe it's nothing."

"I, of course, can only speak so far for this universe," Spock said. "However, for my own... I can assure you, it is not."

"Damn," McCoy muttered to the floor. "This was a problem in yours too?"

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him. "Problem?"

"Well, y-" And he stopped, gazing at Spock's face. "Oh," he said. "You..."

Spock drew the sleeve of his robe down over his dressed arm and rose to his feet, gently forcing McCoy back a step. "Prematurely, I have already interfered too much here," Spock told him, clasping his hands behind his back. "You understand my desire to refrain from further indiscretions. What is, is. In all universes."

McCoy nodded dumbly at him.

"The captain, from your description, seems to possess the customary burdens of his profession, and therefore, I would deem him emotionally healthy, in so far as I am able." Spock inclined his head toward him. "Thank you, Doctor."

And he stepped politely around McCoy and made for the entrance to the medical bay.

The doctor stood there, palms braced against the bio-bed Spock had abandoned. "You're welcome," he whispered to no one.

* * *

The suns had set, but the glow that emanated from the stars lingered in the sky for hours after, like an extended sunset.

"Commander Spock, your profile is quite striking in this light."

Spock stiffened. "Commander Charvanek," he responded without tone.

"I think we are sufficiently acquainted that you may call me Liviana."

Spock started at the revealed name, but he continued on because this had to stop. "Commander Charvanek, I must ask you to desist your amorous pursuits."

"You think I pursue you?" She came to stand beside him with a small smile. "Perhaps I have offended your Vulcan sensibilities, but pursuit has yet to occur. I am merely... stating my interest."

Spock pursed his lips. "I ask that you desist."

"Why? Are you not interested?"

Spock sidestepped the query. "I am in a committed relationship."

"With a Human?" she asked as she cocked her head.

"Yes."

"Then I will desist. Your captain has my apologies." She moved away almost dismissively.

Spock blinked and frowned. "My captain?"

"It is not him you belong to?"

Spock straightened and shook his head, uncomfortable with the ambiguous phrasing. "No. I am involved with Lieutenant Uhura, the _Enterprise_'s Chief of Communications."

"The linguist that speaks my language admirably well? She is... aesthetically pleasing."

"She is." Spock should not _feel_ the need to respond, but defensive pride required him to.

"Then you will no longer be burdened by my... interest."

"I apologize for any offense," Spock said, and meant it. She was, at the very least, far more expedient to converse with than a Human. "But I would indeed appreciate the effort."

"Indeed," she echoed somewhat mockingly, and continued stepping obediently away. But then she stopped to throw a smirk over her shoulder, regally. "Of course... I cannot speak for the burden of your _captain's_ interest."

She moved on toward the beamdown point in the distance, but Spock remained rooted to the spot.

Later, meticulously undressing himself as Nyota braided her long hair, he could not say what had stilled him, kept him standing there on the sand in thought for several minutes. Discussing it with Nyota had only served to confuse her as well. Of course, even had he correctly interpreted the commander's meaning, he knew her now to be teasing and clearly sexually-minded, at least in regards to him. And Jim was flirtatious with all he encountered, at times annoyingly indiscriminate in this regard. It was logical that the commander would come to the conclusion she had when the captain was so emotionally open with him in public and Spock was so emotionally careful with Nyota.

There was no reason it should gnaw at him so. The commander was mistaken and she had been corrected.

Still, his stomach felt unsettled, as though he had not eaten in days.

"Are you all right?"

"I am adequate." Spock said the words with resolve he did not feel.

Nyota finished with her hair and regarded him briefly. "All right," she said lightly, and moved to where he was folding the covers back and joined him in the bed. They laid in quiet comfort, enjoying the release of tension from the day in the relative darkness. "So strange, her bringing up the captain."

There was an odd note to her voice that Spock chose to ignore, similar to his own discomfort. "Indeed." Spock almost wanted to speak more about it, to worry at it but not to worry _about_ it. He was mildly relieved to continue the conversation. "I think I should observe the behavior of the captain to see if I can find where she misconstrued her data."

Uhura didn't answer right away. "Perhaps she didn't even misconstrue. I just think it's odd."

"Agreed."

He spoke as if his reply were the obvious choice, but in truth, it had not consciously occurred to Spock that there could be some validity to the commander's observations until Nyota had said that. He squirmed uncharacteristically, but his bedmate did not comment.

"Odd," he echoed, and turned on his side.


	12. Chapter 11

The small parts of the communicator were sprawled across the table in what looked to be no discernible order, but to her trained eye, it was a natural progression.

Why had Nyota taken apart her communicator? She didn't want to be reached. She did not want to talk to anyone from her ship who might outrank her, because the words Spock had said still rattled around in her head, echoing over themselves until they were noise.

She didn't like noise. She liked making sense of the noise; pulling the signal through the interference and finding what reached out to be heard.

Nyota sighed and began to snap the pieces together. The rhythm soothed her greatly.

The captain was affectionate, or perhaps just tactile in general, and very sexually charged. Everyone onboard the _Enterprise_ knew this. The fact that the commander had made the mistake she had was not particularly troublesome. In fact, standing on its own, it was actually rather funny.

The problem was that it felt less like a joke and more like another piece of a puzzle. Ambassador Spock's constant scrutiny of her could be far more understandable, given this and his general comfort with Jim. Of course, she could be jumping to conclusions there, and probably was.

No, the truly disconcerting part of all this was how much it obviously disconcerted Spock.

He had been appropriately Vulcan about the whole thing, of course. But the longer she was in a relationship with Spock, the more she could see when he hid things by the way he hid them. If he seemed more fine, something was even more wrong. And he had been as nonchalant about this whole scenario as it was possible to be.

It was not the first time Spock would have received unwanted attentions. She knew several friends at the academy who wouldn't have minded a chance at what she had, and she was not unaware of the commander herself's interest. Spock had acknowledged all of those for what they were - a mere nuisance - if he had acknowledged them at all. He had not dwelt on them. There was the question of rank with the captain, of course, but honestly, less so than in her own relationship with Spock.

Perhaps Spock had never experienced the combination of unrequited feelings and friendship, had never had to worry about tiptoeing through middle ground before. She hated to see him so concerned about what was surely a passing interest - were she being generous - on Jim's part.

Nyota looked down at the various pieces that, when slotted together, made up her back-up communicator. She was currently in the process of fine tuning a few of the auditory sensors, and it was delicate, time-consuming work.

More than welcome right now.

She bent over the circuitry and tried not to let her thoughts stray again to Spock's discomfort. Or, if she were honest with herself, _her_ discomfort. Why did Kirk's feelings - _supposed_ feelings, even - make her feel so uncomfortable?

Maybe because it was a little weird to think that she and Jim had the same taste in men. That thought made her laugh, and her hand shook with the soldering gun. Nyota took a deep breath and concentrated on welding the motherboard into the chassis.

And besides, she thought abruptly, it wasn't as if they could explicitly _trust_ the Romulan commander, even if that was what they were here for, at least the farce of it. Maybe the woman just wanted to throw a wrench into Spock's enviable calm. That calm that lately only extended so far beneath the surface.

Again, Nyota sighed at that, and realized not much would get done with her current state of mind. The bed seemed like a better and better idea as she brooded, and eventually she turned off the light.

* * *

Spock did not know where to look. The logical place would be the current speaker, but situated across from him was the commander, and her gaze could be politely construed as _interested_.

And perfectly understood as predatory.

But this time it was not quite aimed in his direction. It lingered on his captain, and that did nothing to quell his... his perfectly logical concern.

Jim, for perhaps the first time since Spock had met him, was perfectly oblivious to an attractive female's scrutiny, or at least doing a capital job of pretending to be. He was focused on the Romulan ambassador who held the floor, looking for all intents and purposes the serious captain, and as Spock did his best not to underestimate Jim these days, he could admit that it likely was not a façade.

He wanted Jim's concentration on the talks. But he also wanted Jim to notice the threat that was the commander so that he could politely rebuff her as Spock had and divert her attention, yet again, elsewhere. Her immediate refocus on his captain, while Jim was an objectively attractive man, could easily lead Spock to believe that her intentions were political rather than romantic.

Such underhanded manipulation was the last thing either side needed at the moment.

"As we had feared," the ambassador was saying, and Spock had the impression that the commander was managing to listen and watch Jim all at once, "Nero is being used as a platform, as though his behavior were the standard in our society. Our arms production is not your concern. There is no reason to limit it."

"We would be limiting our own as well," Ambassador April said.

"With the Klingons encroaching, I would almost rather one of us be supplied to fight them."

"That's not-"

"And I must say, if you are concerned about possible weaponry," And here, Spock watched the Romulan ambassador's eyes travel to his own counterpart, "perhaps it is the Vulcan Science Academy you should be limiting."

Spock stiffened in his chair and did not realize how tight his grip on the arm had become until he felt Jim's hand settle on his wrist. He forcibly unclenched his fingers.

Ambassador Spock regarded the other coolly. "My time was equipped for such advances."

"How can we be assured that the advances from your time are not used to bolster your ailing civilization?" the Romulan ambassador asked harshly.

Spock could distantly hear the sound of warping plastic, and quite suddenly there was a warm hand over his. He blinked and looked down to find Jim's hand on his, and oddly, was comforted. He was able to release the arm of the chair, and lamented on the faint finger marks that were left.

It would have to be replaced.

"Because the red matter technology would serve us no purpose as of right now."

"It is a formidable weapon."

"It was created with the intent of saving a civilization. Unfortunately it has led to the decimation of one. I would not wish it to fall into the hands of a people who have just experienced such loss."

The Romulan ambassador bared his teeth. "To pull on the heart strings is almost emotional."

"To state the truth is logical," Ambassador Spock responded.

"Ambassador Spock is the only one present with any knowledge of the red matter's components," Spock heard Jim speak up, but his thumb had begun to stroke over Spock's knuckles distractingly. No doubt it was an attempt at further calming, but it was beginning to have the opposite effect. "And even he only knows so much, and what he knows, he's telling no one."

Indeed, Spock knew Starfleet had asked, though anyone present would be embarrassed to admit it.

"As for the future, there's no controlling that," Jim finished, and his thumb mercifully stilled.

"Agreed," the Romulan said. "Which is why we suggest the limitations. Or perhaps an accord to share the knowledge, should it be developed."

_Sometimes, I miss nuclear weapons,_ Spock thought, and it took him a moment to realize it was not his own. It startled him into finally withdrawing his hand.

"The red matter effectively does not exist." Ambassador April sat forward and Jim sat back. "All we are suggesting for our current terms is a guarantee that armaments will be reduced to the lowest points realistically consistent with domestic safety. On both sides."

"The Kingons-"

"Will be taken into consideration."

For what seemed to Spock the first time all day, the commander took her eyes off of Kirk and turned them on Ambassador April, her customary smirk in place.

"Give us your _realistic_ numbers then, Ambassador," she said, and Spock felt like Jim's grip was loosening, even though he had long since released his hand.

* * *

"I'll be returning to the ship tonight."

Spock looked down at Nyota and nodded. "That is acceptable. I have much work to do and would not be pleasant company." He allowed the edges of his lips to quirk in response to her smile, and the brief kiss she gave him.

"I'll leave you to your work. Have you been able to find equilibrium?"

It was a considerate question, and devoid of emotion, which would only have added to the problem. But Spock did not know how to reassure Nyota without lying to both her and himself.

"I will achieve it soon," he said, assured. "I will not keep you from your rest."

Nyota nodded and touched his hand briefly before she took out her communicator. "One to beam up," she said quietly, and waved before her molecules dissipated.

Spock watched the space she vacated for a few moments, and tensed at the sound behind him. "Captain," he said, without turning around.

Jim stopped beside him with a grin. "I wanted to sneak up on you."

"Then you should school your breathing."

"Uhura said once that I breathe loudly," Kirk pouted briefly, then straightened. "What a day, am I right?"

Spock hesitated; the mention of the day brought with it memories of the talks, and the commander. And what had effectively become a kiss, though he was certain Jim was unaware of that. "Captain-"

"Jim," Kirk interrupted.

"Jim." Spock swallowed and considered his next move. There was little reason to bring up the commander's assumptions, but there was every reason to warn Jim away from her. "The commander-"

"Seems to be off you," Jim said, and Spock stared at him, surprised, though he perhaps should not have been.

"I explained my satisfactory relationship status," he said and Jim's eyes were suddenly less playful somehow. "Yes."

Jim reached up to rub at the back of his neck and with a huffed chuckle, helped himself to a chair. "Unfortunately, I have nothing like your excuse, if I read her new vibes correctly."

"She would not be offended if you were to tell her your attentions were engaged elsewhere as well," Spock said.

"You mean lie?"

Jim's tone was teasing, surely because the thought of Spock suggesting he tell falsehoods was quite amusing to him, but Spock paused on his way to the room's replicator, his offer of a beverage freezing in his throat. Spock had not quite intended for Jim to lie, but if lying was all Jim could do, that answered several questions of the past few days.

Unless, of course, Jim was lying now. Which seemed unlikely.

Spock swallowed the strange sensations the knowledge produced and opened his mouth to again ask if Jim desired a drink, but what came out was, "She already has suspicions. You would merely be refusing to deny them." He busied himself with the replicator, and like two nights ago in this room with Nyota, he experienced the paradox of both wanting to talk and not. He hoped Jim would ask. He hoped he would not.

"Suspicions?"

"Is it a lie?" he asked the replicator. He really should have been answering a question, not asking one.

When he looked, Jim's gaze was a little more guarded than he had seen in a while. Hard, as it had been at the _Kobayashi Maru_ hearing. Defensive. "What's it matter?" he said, tone more controlled than his expression. "If she thinks it's true, you're right, it'll be an easy out. Besides, I won't even be addressing it unless she gets inappropriate."

Spock turned back to the replicator and punched in a command for tea. "Of course, Captain."

Jim didn't correct the title. "Where did she get these _suspicions_ anyway?"

"I cannot specify."

"Of course not. Romulan or not, she's still a woman," Jim said ruefully as he accepted the warm beverage from Spock. He noted it was one of the teas he actually liked, a vanilla blend that tasted more caramel than anything else. It gave him something to concentrate on, something else to look at rather than his first officer.

He felt like he was fourteen again.

"I guess it doesn't matter. If it comes up, it comes up," Jim said.

Spock frowned at his rather cryptic response, but settled for a nod. He felt that the opportunity to expound further upon the topic had passed, and he could only lament its passing.

Metaphorically, of course.

"Maybe I should, like... tone it down."

Spock stiffened, unsure if he understood Jim's phrasing, and if he appreciated what he believed it to mean. "Captain?"

"Well, like... I'm kind of... you know. Especially around Uhura, which you're both cool about 'cause I think you just both think I'm an idiot, but maybe I should back off. Because maybe that's why the commander thinks that. And that's too unprofessional, even for me. I can't keep that up. Not for something this important."

Spock still had his back to Jim, replicating his own cup of tea, but he felt the eye contact that would have taken place had he been facing him, heard the unspoken "for you."

"The commander was not speaking of the lieutenant."

"Well, no, not now you've set her straight about you and Uhura, but it doesn't matter anyway. I think I need to lay off, regardless of the talks. It hasn't been anything but a joke for a long time between me and Uhura and it's... it's not a joke to you two. So."

Jim's voice was odd, and Spock was very unwilling to turn around. He heard him clear his throat.

"So I should probably stop treating it like one."

Spock could not disagree. Any time Jim wished to become more professional of his own volition, Spock was hesitant to discourage him, but he could not ignore the dejected tone. "We are not offended, Captain," he assured him.

"Still." He heard Jim sigh and the heaviness lifted immediately. "So, not Uhura then. I must just have the general air of a taken man, then. Which I can't say anyone has ever picked up on from me."

Spock carefully said nothing.

"Maybe this job has changed me more than I realize."

As conversations with Jim tended to be when they were alone, this one was growing exceedingly personal, and Spock was no more comfortable with the track it was taking than he might have been had they actually been discussing the commander's true suspicions. He could not deny Jim's statement, because he had observed that the captaincy had indeed changed him; in Spock's opinion, for the better. Admirable qualities of Jim's he had only seen glimpses of during the _Narada_ incident were becoming more and more appreciable and steadfast.

But Jim sounded more saddened by his own words than proud.

"I... do not believe that was the commander's impression," he said.

"So what was her impression, since you're so sure of it?"

Spock blinked. "I do not believe I lent myself to any more understanding than you, about everything."

Jim tilted his head and a smile bloomed, and quickly wilted. "You dodge the question only when you're uncomfortable with the answer."

Spock did not dignify the words with a reply.

"Spock." Jim's tone was light, but his expression was tight-lipped, bordered on angry. The command tone had seeped in, even though this was a personal matter. Jim probably didn't realize he was doing it. Spock was unsure of how to proceed.

"She is under the impression that your... fixation was not with Lieutenant Uhura, but with myself."

Jim blinked and looked down into his cup. There was a long silence, too long, even for Spock. "And how do you feel about that?" He glanced up and shook his head. "No, I don't mean _feel_. I meant... does that make a difference to you?"

"I place no weight in conjecture, Captain."

The silence returned. "Yeah, you seem really comfortable with it."

Sarcasm. It was not a question, so Spock did not respond.

"And I didn't mean the 'conjecture' part. I just meant... the general idea."

"That you would not make advances on the woman I plan to marry, but on myself?" Spock felt the frost of incredulity, but remained outwardly calm. "That hardly seems relevant."

"Because it's conjecture?"

"Among other things, Captain."

"Jim."

"Jim."

"Like that apparently you plan to marry Uhura."

"It is the logical course of action."

"Of course." Only a brief pause this time. "You haven't looked at me in about ten minutes."

"That is exaggeration."

"Hyperbole," Jim corrected him, and he could not disagree. He obediently turned to face his friend, surprised somehow that Jim's appearance had in no way altered. Jim sighed again. "For such a direct guy, Spock, we seem to wind up beating around the bush a lot when we're together."

"Beating-" But then Spock stopped, because he understood the slang, and the teasing reflex was too perfect irony.

Jim smirked mirthlessly. "Yeah. Like that." Jim's eyes listed down to his tea, balanced in his hand on the arm of his chair. "My point is... if it weren't conjecture. Is this gonna have to be a thing?"

He met Spock's eyes, but Spock was frozen to the spot, unable to respond.

"Because it's not. A thing. I mean, there's... but it's nothing. The only things that might make it a problem are Uhura and our working relationship, but you should know I've felt this before and... yeah. It's nothing. Goes away. So. Doesn't have to be a problem, right?"

Spock was too busy processing the new, impossible information to be asked to consider what the information would mean.

"Indeed," he made himself say, because he could not ask Jim to sit there waiting for an answer for as long as it would take him to formulate one which had any truth to it.

"Great." Jim set his tea aside, even though the cup was still half full, and rose from his chair, stretching nonchalantly. Then he stared at Spock for a moment, a strange expression on his face, and reached out to smack his shoulder. "Glad this wasn't the awkward situation it could have been."

It may have been sarcasm again. Jim was leaving before Spock could decide.


	13. Chapter 12

"It would be wiser to share, rather than limit."

Spock heard Kirk's audible scoff from the seat beside him and purposely ignored it, though he agreed that far too many tried to pass off folly as wisdom. He carefully inclined his head. "At times, yes. But what you wish for us to share is the red matter."

"It is."

Spock had never heard Sub-Commander Tal speak before this session, but today, his commander appeared to be allowing him and the loudest of their two ambassadors to do most of the arguing, sitting back with a pensive expression on her face. The light of mischief was missing from her eyes and Spock found himself wondering where it had gone.

"We've already told you that Ambassador Spock is the only one who knows anything," Kirk said, and Spock silently commended him for not stating outright that the Romulans must actively distrust them.

The elder Spock leaned forward. "I assure you, the Federation has not yet received what I know of the formula, nor will they."

"We're talking in circles again, here, ladies and gentlemen," Jim said, commanding even though he was not suggesting anything yet. "I believe it might be time to break for lunch."

It was not a concept Romulans, or for that matter, Vulcans shared in, this "lunch," however familiar Spock was with it. It was an excuse for recess, and Spock imagined everyone present would do better to eat. Everyone was aware that this was going nowhere and no one wanted to admit it.

It left a bad taste in Spock's mouth, as his mother would say. He could understand the metaphor now that he was older.

There was a general air of reluctance, and some grumbling amid the rising murmur of voices as everyone stood, but Jim was obeyed. Spock looked over to the captain, gathering his things, and felt a surge of pride. Kirk was perhaps the youngest person in the chamber.

He almost complimented him, but Kirk had yet to look at him, and it only served to remind Spock how tense they had been the past two days. They had not spoken privately since they had discussed Kirk's feelings.

His captain stepped away from him with only a nod and a begrudging smile, heading for the antechamber and Spock bent to retrieve his own PADD, suppressing a sigh.

"You realize, of course," he heard, the tone near conspiratorial, "that we argue for the knowledge, should it be _developed_."

Spock looked up, believing he was overhearing the commander speaking with her subordinate, but was almost startled to find her standing at his own side, looking up at him with a determined expression that reminded him far too much of Kirk.

"And you cannot concede even this?" she prompted.

"The Federation is aware of what you are requesting."

"You keep your secrets," she said. "And expect us to disarm as well. Reality, you understand, will be somewhere in between."

"I do. I would expect even Romulus to bend to the logic of that as well."

She did sigh now, a touch of her teasing back, taking the near insult in stride. She leaned against the conference table and crossed her arms over her chest. "I can only do what the public allows me to do," she said. "And no public, Mister Spock, even yours, is logical. What I would concede and what they would are two entirely different things. And I can not return to my planet and tell them to disarm. I will not."

She pushed away from the table and stepped around him. "Perhaps," she said as she passed him. "We have all been 'neutral' for far too long."

"Is that a threat, Commander?" Spock found himself demanding, his posture bristling, and she turned to him, her still-teasing smile somehow mirthless.

"I simply meant, Mister Spock that it is time we negotiate true peace," she said. "Or we may as well declare war."

And she followed the rest from the room.

"She wants us to disarm if they do," Jim told him when Spock related the conversation to him during the break.

"Which we have offered."

Jim scratched at his head. "To an extent, I suppose," he said. "But she's right. The red matter is a question of trust on both sides of the fence. We can't be hypocrites there."

"Then the only option is to remove it as a point from the table, to be decided upon when and if the knowledge is developed."

And Jim shrugged. "Tell the Romulans that, I guess. Agreeing to disagree does seem to be all we can do right now."

Which appeared to be remaining "neutral", Spock thought, but he did not know how to change that. The Federation public would take no more kindly to disarming than Romulus would.

"Captain," he began, but paused as Kirk winced. "Are you in pain?" he asked instead.

"No. You have that, 'we have to talk' voice. Human males are prepared to dislike that one even upon first hearing it," Jim said ruefully.

Spock blinked. "I think I know of what you speak. It is the same voice my mother employed when she had found something I had done of which she did not approve. Curiously, it bears close resemblance to the tone Nyota uses when she has also decided I have done something wrong and must be made aware." He looked at his captain, briefly surprised. "I had not made the connection until now."

Jim snorted. "Don't mention it. We have a responsibility to warn every Human male. Even half-Human," he said with a smirk. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Spock suddenly did not know how to proceed. "I have seen the tension in your shoulders every time we are in the same room together. I do not wish to be the reason you must seek out Doctor McCoy for medication."

Jim rolled the words around in his head and pulled out the real meaning. "I think that's something that will have to go away on its own. Humans deal with rejection in different ways."

"You assume so readily that you've been rejected," Spock said tersely. "Humans assume much."

Jim felt his face go hot and he had to look at everything _but_ his second in command. "What are you trying to say then," he asked hoarsely.

Spock regarded Jim and quite suddenly saw the logic in a shrug, though he refrained. "I am simply refuting your claim on events which did not take place and which had no opportunity to take place. I wanted you to be aware of the facts, rather than your emotionally contrived speculation."

Jim watched Spock leave, ironically stepping toward Uhura, and felt as if the whole room had begun to spin as his heart raced. So, if he could read Spock correctly (and he had been faithfully reading the manual), then did he just...

No. Really, Spock had carefully _not_ said it. And admitting attraction, as Jim had so pathetically proven two days ago, was not admitting an intent to act on it. He knew Spock better than that, loved him for that.

Uhura smiled up at Spock, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, and Jim turned away.

* * *

"Something has disturbed you."

Jim smiled at the fact that this was phrased as a statement rather than a question, and nodded. "Many things. I wish I could say the legitimate problems are what's keeping me from your company. But really, I've been delaying my paperwork, and I am pretty sure I've received a death threat from my yeoman."

Ambassador Spock smiled. "To some degree your... counterpart had the same issue with paperwork. But eventually he worked out a system which allowed him to stay on top of everything. Perhaps you can try to determine what would help you do the same."

Kirk nodded. "That sounds like good advice." He smirked. "Be even better advice if you'd tell me what the system was."

"I do not believe you would entirely appreciate it if I were to simply relate it to you. Nor would you likely abide by it."

Jim snorted a laugh, tracing a hand along the wall of the ship's corridor. "You know me too well," he said. "Or you enjoy messing with me. I choose to believe the former."

"The two are not mutually exclusive," Spock said.

"Well, anyway. I'm sorry for having to cancel."

"As am I," Spock came to a stop and faced him, and Jim, unsure what else to do, did the same. "Perhaps we could have discussed your troubles."

Jim gave him a rueful smile simply to indulge him, but purposely got them walking again. "Yeah... I don't know. That might be awkward."

"Oh?"

Jim winced. "I just need to work it out for myself, I think." He glanced over at the ambassador. "Not so used to parental advice."

It was Spock's turn to smile, however subtly. "Is that how you see me?"

"I think you give me parental advice. How I see you isn't quite as parental as I might like it to be," Kirk said cryptically.

Spock's eyebrow rose, but he only nodded when Jim looked. "Another time, then?" he offered, blowing past that, Jim felt perhaps deliberately.

Jim knew the question asked about not only company, but serious conversation. "Absolutely." He gave what he felt was his trademark grin before backing away and turning to move down the hall.

All the time in the world.

* * *

"I miss you sometimes," Nyota said, quite abruptly, and Spock looked up from his meal, startled from the silence. He lifted an eyebrow at her. "When you go away."

Spock returned his eyes to the table, and carefully did not shift in his seat. He supposed this was the first opportunity they had had in quite some time to truly enjoy being together. He glanced around. However unimpressive the establishment. "The talks have been extensive for all of us," he conceded, watching another pair across the restaurant, curiously; a mother and young son.

"No, that's..." And she breathed a laugh at him, surprising him, "that wasn't what I meant. I mean now."

His brow furrowed. "I am right here," he said.

Her laugh's smile remained, odd somehow. "Are you?" She speared a foreign vegetable with her utensil. "I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

"We have almost daily contact, however brief and superficial."

Nyota nodded to herself. "And you become obtuse on purpose, when there is something you don't wish to discuss. We don't have to talk about the mission right now. We can talk about other things."

Spock did not think he wanted to talk about anything at all, really, but in a social setting, one was called upon to be _social_. For some reason the word brought with it an image of Jim, a bright smile on his face as he shook the hands of those around him. People flocked to his side and asked his opinion, usually before he had proven himself deserving of such trust.

What drew them to him?

"Or we could not," she said with another laugh, although he could hear the tension within the notes. She observed him quietly. "You want to talk about it?"

"'It'?" he echoed, and he wanted to add her rank at the end, but this was hardly the proper setting for the comfort of formality.

"Whatever it is that's bothering you," she clarified. "Where you've been."

"I am beginning to understand this 'where' less as a location and more as a state of mind; is this correct?"

Her eyes sparkled attractively in the restaurant's low light. "Correct."

Spock swallowed down at his food. "I find myself conflicted," he said, because it was true. There was no reason to hesitate over the word, despite the illogical impulse. "I have come to no other conclusion beyond this, myself. To attempt to explain would therefore be illogical, and so I have not."

Nyota finished chewing and swallowed her bite. "Fair enough," she said, but her tone was a touch breathless. "Emotional problems?"

To deny that emotion played a part in his life, particularly in this problem, would be illogical with a woman whose company he kept on an emotional basis. "That would be a way of putting it, yes."

"Do you wish help figuring it all out?"

Spock was almost tempted to accept. "I do not wish to burden you until I am certain."

Nyota nodded. "May I ask... is it about us?"

Spock shook his head. "It is not." It was not a lie; the confusion laid with him and Jim, not him and Nyota. Nevertheless, the words felt closer to a lie than he would have liked.

"Okay." He noted the apparent relief in her posture as her frown eased and she sat up straighter. "But you should eat something. Perhaps if what you've ordered isn't palatable, then we could order something else? Or perhaps skip to desert?"

There was a familiar smirk on her face now and Spock found himself almost smiling at it, in spite of his mood. "Pleasurable though I am sure that would be, I believe further... stimuli when I am currently in need of meditation may prove unwise."

Nyota appeared disappointed, but not uneasy, reaching across the table to brush her fingers against his. Spock turned his hand over to return the caress, watching the interplay of the digits with what felt almost like nostalgia.

* * *

Jim woke before the communicator beeped, breathless without knowing why.

He sat up and braced himself on his palms, eyes darting around the dark room before he reached up to swipe a hand over his mouth. His heart was pounding too fast, ready like he had risen to a red alert, but his diplomatic quarters were silent, and far from his ship, orbiting above.

He was reaching for his communicator to check the time when it went off, twittering like a captured bird. Jim started and flicked it open, fingers trembling slightly with adrenaline.

"Kirk here," he said, voice rough.

"_Captain_," he heard. "_Wilkes here, sir._"

Jim swung his legs over the side of the bed, instantly lucid. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"_We have a security breach, sir,_" Wilkes said, and Jim was already reaching for his shirt, waiting for more, for worse.

He wasn't forced to wait long.

"_Ambassador Spock is missing._"


End file.
